Quinquennium
by Vrinda81
Summary: Steve is shot by two unknown assailants to send a warning to his aid, Jayna Berringer. It's up to the Five-O team to find out who is behind this campaign of vengeance before things get deadlier.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **I**

The sound of wooden boards breaking, their splinters spiraling through the air amidst puffs of sawdust, resonated as Steve McGarrett swung his bo and circled around his opponent, Lt. Ken Nishimura of HPD's Homicide division. In one swift motion, Nishimura thrust his bo at Steve, making the chief of police swerve to the right and swing his bo in a downwards motion to knock Nishimura off his feet. He crashed onto the blue mat, landing on his side, then rolling onto his knees and sitting up on them. The whistle blow from the instructor signaled that time was up and class was over. Steve walked over to Nishimura and extended his hand.

"That was rough, bruddah," Nishimura said as he got back on his feet.

"It wasn't meant to be gentle," Steve replied, making a wide grin.

"I thought when you signed up for karate classes, that you were a beginner," Nishimura replied. "It looks like you've become the master …"

An hour later, after showering and changing into suits and ties, they walked out to Steve's car. The other students were also piling out, exiting for the night. The evening air turned cooler from an ocean breeze and there was no moon out. The lights in the parking lot did not create much more luminescence.

"Next week, it's rematch time," Nishimura said. "I'm going to clobber you."

Steve laughed. "We'll see about that. I got the drop on you three times today. How do you propose to be more vigilant next time?"

"I've got your technique down pat," Nishimura said, tapping his index finger on the side of his forehead. "Every time you swing your bo, I'll get out of the way!" They both laughed.

They walked together till they reached Steve's car. Steve took out the key.

"Next Thursday, then?" Steve asked.

"I paid my one hundred bucks. I'm going to get my money's worth," Nishimura began. "Of course, I'll be here next week."

They didn't notice the car drive up at first. Despite the darkness of the approaching night, the car's headlights were not turned on. It was a light gray blue color. There were two people sitting inside, the driver and someone in the passenger's seat. Steve and Nishimura's inner alarm systems kicked up. The car stopped and the passenger side window slid down.

"Steve McGarrett?" a man asked. The man tried to keep from getting too close to the window, but Steve could tell he was not Hawaiian or of Asian descent at all. Steve hesitated before responding. He had a feeling those men know who he was and didn't need to ask.

"Yes," he said, cautiously. He saw the glint of a steel rod protruding from the darkness of the car window. A loud blast emanated from it, cracking through the silence of the night with a deadly roar. Steve fell back, clutching his left arm and gasping, clenching his teeth. Nishimura ducked down, scrambling towards Steve.

"Tell Jayna Berringer that five years are up," the man with the gun said. The window rolled up and the car sped away. People came running from inside the karate school and the parking lot.

"Call an ambulance!" Nishimura yelled to them as he took off his jacket and put it under Steve's head. Steve could only pant and moan in pain.

 **II**

The hospital was quiet, though the noise was still too loud for Jayna Berringer to cope. Amid the whispers of the doctors and nurses about other patients, the whirring of a wheelchair that an orderly pushed by, and the intercom paging a different Dr. So-and-So every few minutes, her tension magnified the seemingly innocuous noises to decibels that would make a person scream out in terror, only to stop short of it and realize the reality of their surroundings.

Danny Williams, Steve McGarrett's second-in-command, sat next to her, trying to console her and assure her that Steve would live and his injury was not serious. He knew it did little to comfort her, knowing that the man who shot Steve was doing it to send her a message – a message she did not comprehend. Five years ago was 1966. Jayna was a rookie, having just left Intelligence and being hired by HPD because of her experience with surveillance and investigative work. Any suspect she had a role in sending to jail at that time was a prime suspect, and narrowing the focus to cases she worked on in 1966 made it easier to figure out who that prime suspect might be. She remembered closing at least three cases and taking part in ongoing investigations on five others. She would still have to go through all her case files from that time.

A Styrofoam cup of hot coffee, laced with cream and sugar, was placed in front of her, and she took it gingerly in her hands, quietly thanking Danno.

"He's going to live, but for how long?" she asked him. "It was a warning shot, but they won't stop there."

Danno put his hand on her shoulder. "We'll get them next time, Jayna," he assured her. "They won't win. We'll put a guard on Steve around the clock …"

The doctor came out into the waiting room, his hands thrust into the pockets of his white coat and approached the detectives.

Danno recognized him as Dr. Winthrop, who they met on a case last year.

"Hello, Williams," Dr. Winthrop said. "Nice to see you again, though I wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."

"Likewise, Doctor," Danno said. He pointed to Jayna. "Dr. Winthrop, this is Jayna Berringer. She works with Steve and me." Jayna and Dr. Winthrop shook hands.

"Nice to meet you," Dr. Winthrop said. Jayna managed a weak smile. She didn't have the energy to respond verbally, and Dr. Winthrop understood.

"We removed the bullet and administered antibiotics," he said. "There was no vital tissue or nerve damage, and no damage to any arteries. He has to stay in the hospital for at least six days, so we can make sure he doesn't get any infections. You can give him whatever protection he needs."

"Can we see him now?" Jayna asked, impassively. She was keeping her emotions in check as part of her way of keeping herself together.

"You can, but only for a few minutes," Dr. Winthrop answered. "He needs to sleep, and he's coming out of the anesthesia about now and will be groggy."

"You can go in," Danno told her. "I'll be outside if you need me."

 **III**

Steve McGarrett rested quietly on his back in a bed that was in the center of the wall opposite the door as Jayna entered. His left arm was wrapped in a blue and white sling and bent at the elbow. His left hand lay placidly across his chest. His soft, dark brown hair was strewn about his forehead and tufts of it stuck out from where the sides of his head met the puffy pillow. In deep sleep, he looked so peaceful that Jayna didn't have the heart to wake him. She leaned over, and kissed him on the forehead. Steve stirred, his eye still closed. He exhaled through his nose, letting out a soft, deep huff, then slowly opened his eyes and wrinkled his nose.

"Jayna," he said softly. "What say you?"

Jayna picked up Steve's right hand, gently pressing her fingers onto his. It was strange what things people noticed, even in times of crisis. The room was cooler than the hallway. The air conditioning was just the right temperature, allowing Steve a comfortable rest. The sunlight crept in from the window over the bed, landing in the middle of the floor and outlining the silhouettes of the palm trees outside, the jaggedly edge of their leafy shadows stretched out to resemble serrated knives.

"I'm sorry, Steve," she said.

"Sorry for what?" he asked. His blue eyes were the color of the ocean on a sunny day. Though the face can lie, the eyes don't. There was no anger on Steve's face, and his eyes proved it.

"For getting you shot." Jayna was starting to sweat, despite the cooler temperature. Did Steve not know why he was in that hospital bed?

"I told you that when you sign up for this job, there are risks," he told her. "I knew that I would make a lot of enemies, and that anyone could get me at any time."

"But this was not about you," Jayna said. "They were trying to get me through you …" She held Steve's hand tightly, as though if she let it go, he would disappear. "You're here because of me."

"Even then, your enemies are mine," Steve reminded her. She gently placed his right hand on his chest, over his left.

"I can't remember anyone off the top of my head … They're going through the files now."

"Then when you leave here today, you'll go back to the palace, look through your files, and try to find out." He was trying to assure her, make her believe that everything was under control. The reality of Steve lying in a hospital bed with wounded shoulder, from a bullet delivered to him with a message for her only drove the fear home more fiercely. They could come back, at any time, in any place. Steve would not be safe until they were caught.

"Did you see their faces, or anything inside the car?" Jayna asked.

"Only that they were white," Steve said. "I could see some of the shooter's hand. He had pale skin – not someone who spent much time at the beach."

"That was Ken's answer, too," Jayna said. "There were some people from the karate school who said they saw a strange car in the parking lot a few hours before you were shot."

"They were casing the joint," Steve said. "Getting the lay of the land, so they knew how to get in and get out fast."

"Did you always park your car in that spot?" Jayna asked.

"As often as I could, if that spot was open, Jayna," Steve answered. "Though there are about fifty parking spots, the karate school shares the parking lot with a Chinese restaurant, a beauty salon, and a dry cleaner. The parking lot is nearly full every night except Sunday. That spot is usually empty at that time."

"They had to have been following you, watching your every move," Jayna said, skidding her foot along the gray tiled floor. "That's how they knew exactly where you'd be after your karate class ended."

Steve's blue eyes softened, but maintained their sapphire sparkle. He looked at Jayna with affection, breathing in deeply, the pain in his shoulder subsiding, but the discomfort was still there.

"There's not much more that can be done from here," he said. "You're in charge of this case, Jayna. Danno, Chin, and Kono will help you all they can, and you have Che, Doc, and Manicote as well. I know you'll crack this case. I have the utmost faith in your ability to turn this island upside down to do it." He cracked a smile.

"That'll have to be the way," Jayna said. "I already have HPD scouring this entire rock. I told them to make this Priority One."

Steve managed a gentle laugh. "You're a good student."

"I had a great teacher." There was silence for several minutes. The only noise came from a car engine revving outside, and the nurse's paging a doctor on the intercom in the hall. Steve smiled again, just as the door opened and a nurse and Danno entered.

"Time's up. He has to take his nap," the nurse said, tapping at her watch. She entered, followed by Danno, who looked warmly at his boss, relieved to see him alive. Steve had already closed his eyes and was entering into a deep slumber. Jayna got up, kissed his hand and placed it back across his chest, and walked out with Danno.

 **IV**

There was nothing more Danno and Jayna could do at the hospital, so they went to the karate school parking lot. It was still night, and the police officers and the yellow tape that cordoned off the area where the shooting took place made the reality of last night's shooting all the more clear. There were witness, all of whom told varying stories about what they saw, but the common factor was that they all saw a car drive up to Steve and Ken, and some in that car shot Steve.

Jerry Minobe, Steve's karate instructor, had already given his statement and left, but agreed to talk further if they needed him. He was inside the building and came out when he heard some students calling out that there had been a shooting in the parking lot. He ran out, saw Steve lying injured on the ground, and went inside to call the police. Two other students from Steve and Ken's karate class, plus the manager and an employee from the dry cleaner next door were in the parking lot when the shooting occurred. No one saw the car drive up, but they all saw it drive away after they heard the gunshots.

Two shell casings were found. The casings, along with the paint chip, were sent to Che Fong for analysis. The gun was a Colt Commander, and was found in the bushes at the end of the block. That was typical in a hit job. Hitmen don't use their own weapons, often using an unregistered weapon or one with the serial numbers scraped off and leaving it at the scene of the crime, content in the knowledge that it can never be traced.

The witnesses said they heard the tires of the shooter's car screeching as it drove away. She shone her light on the ground to check for tire tracks. The lack of recent rainfall meant very few people might be driving around with wet tires which could leave tracks, but there were still muddy ditches and puddles of water from lawn sprinklers and hoses. If the shooter's car drove through one of those, then the tires would leave those wet imprints behind. It was wishful thinking on Jayna's part, but being a good detective meant thinking of every possible angle.

An HPD officer was talking to someone outside the yellow tape. The man was in his forties, around five-six, dressed in a security guard's uniform, and appeared to be Chinese. The officer took him over to Jayna and introduced him as a security guard who patrolled the parking lot across the street. That parking lot belonged to a bar that was closing for the night.

"Jayna, this is Mr. Lin," the officer said. "He works as a security guard across at Jake's Bar across the street."

"Hello, Mr. Lin," Jayna said. She introduced herself. "What did you see?"

Mr. Lin looked eager to speak. "I saw a car pull into this lot … it was sometime around eight o'clock. That is when I make the rounds of the parking lot at Jake's. I saw the car come speeding down the road, then it turned into this parking lot. I thought it was strange since not too many cars are coming in here at that hour. I saw the car stop, then I heard two shots, and it sped away and a man fell down."

"Can you describe the car?" Jayna asked.

"It was either gray or light blue. It had four doors. I couldn't get a good look at the license plate."

Jayna wrote it down. "Could you see the driver?"

Mr. Lin shook his head. "No."

"Could you see anything else inside the car?"

"No. There was not enough light. I wish I could tell you more."

"You told us enough, Mr. Lin. Thank you," Jayna said. "This officer will take your statement." The HPD officer nodded and took out his notepad. Danno joined Jayna, looking around them at the few cars that remained and the quiet buildings nearby – buildings which now took on an eerie façade in their empty forms, like abandoned buildings, even though they were only closed for the night. The day was young but now, she felt so old.

 **V**

Jayna pulled out a folder and tossed it onto the increasing stack of folders that accumulated on her desk. They represented every case she worked on since she joined HPD in 1966 and continuing into the ones she worked on for Five-O. It amounted to hundreds of convictions, some of whom were still in jail or on parole. Some had made open verbal threats, others she knew were thinking them. For a while, she wondered if this had anything to do with the case she took on for Intelligence last year. It caused a lot of anguish for Steve and the rest of Five-O, yet was necessary to preserve security for U.S. navy ships and naval intelligence in the South Pacific. Steve nearly died, both emotionally and physically. Jayna had no choice but to play the game she did. When it got too close, and Steve's life was in danger, she had to act fast and if she hadn't, he would already be dead. Remembering the look on his face when he saw her after he believed she was dead … it was an image Jayna could not erase, but did not want to forget. She vowed she would never cause Steve that kind of pain again but here, now … the pain came back – in the form of a bullet in his shoulder.

"Anything yet?" Danno said, breaking her reverie.

Jayna turned around from her position leaning against the doorway, staring into Steve's empty office. "No, not close. …" She went back to her desk and pulled out the file she had just tossed on the top of the pile. "This was from last month. He's been in jail for armed robbery …" She put the file down. "This is going to take forever. We've got nothing to narrow it down … Five years are up, he said …"

"Here's something." Danno handed her a report from the forensics team. "The blue-gray paint chip from the parking lot matches a type of paint used on Ford Malibus. HPD is checking DMV records for all Malibus registered in this island."

"Perfect," Jayna replied, her spark returning.

"And there's more," Danno added. "One of the students at the karate school saw a gray car driving through the parking lot that afternoon. There were two men in it. He didn't get a license number, but he remembered that the car had a dented bumper and the back passenger side door was discolored. He could see patches of rust."

Jayna pulled out three folders that lay closest to where Danno stood. The name on the tab of the first folder read, "Bartlett;" the second folder's tab read, "Robles;" and the last read, "Marquez."

"These were the cases I worked on in 1966," Jayna began. "Bartlett was Howard Bartlett. He was a bigwig in Hawaiian and mainland industries. It was the typical murder-for-hire case. His business partner had him killed so he could take control of the firm."

"Who was the business partner?" Danno asked.

"Frank Mays," Jayna replied, handing Danno the open folder. "He's doing fifteen to life for conspiracy to commit murder. The hitman was a guy named Rudy Chang. He was a local and couldn't keep his mouth shut. After two drinks, his gums flapped like a flag and all of Waikiki knew what he had done. He named Mays as the man who hired him, and the case was closed. Both Mays and Chang might have had it in for me, but Mays more so than Chang. I checked with Duke Lukela. Neither is eligible for parole this year."

Danno picked up the Robles file. "Nick Robles, one of Hawaii's most successful crime bosses, till you helped put him away," he said, smiling impishly at Jayna.

"And he has never forgiven me for that," Jayna replied. "He even threatened me in the courtroom, along with three other witnesses, John Manicote, his assistant, the jury, the judge, and the court stenographer."

"Did he make good on any of those threats?" Danno asked.

"So far, everyone is still alive," Jayna said, pushing an eraser along the edge of her desk. "Robles' lawyers were trying to find errors in the investigation to get him off on a technicality, but they found nothing that could stick. He was sentenced to twenty-five years for racketeering, and would be eligible for parole about now. They couldn't get him for any of the murders he was supposedly involved in, so they got him for the gambling, prostitution, and auto theft rackets he operated."

"We'll put him at the top of the suspect list," Danno said.

"Check to see if he was released," Jayna said. "I never heard anything about it, so he's either been rejected or is still waiting for his hearing."

"That takes us to Louis Marquez," Danno said. He read the corresponding file out loud. "Charged with three counts of bank robbery. Serving five to fifteen years. Eligible for parole this year."

Danno noticed Jayna's pensive face. She wasn't thinking about Marquez, or any suspect she put away. She stared out the window, her eyes fixated on something she did not acknowledge, only allowing it to serve as a target for her eyes, but not her mind.

"What is it, Jayna?" Steve McGarrett's second-in-command asked. Jayne slowly turned away from the window.

"Nothing," she answered. "I just feel that there's more to this than looking for someone about to go before the parole board …"

Danno shot her a sympathetic look. "That goes without saying," he replied. "But what else do you think lies beyond these three suspects? The shooter said that five years was over. That only gives us a narrow timeframe to work with. Even if we go back on year earlier, you were working for Intelligence. You dealt with people whose MO's went above a shooting in a parking lot with witnesses around …"

Jayna's eyes opened wide. "That's it!" she exclaimed. "We are narrowing the timeframe too much. We're focusing on people who were sentenced and sent to jail in 1966. Maybe it wasn't someone I sent to jail at all. There were many who got away, but not without some damage done to them …" Jayna thought for a minute. "There was a hood we were investigating for murder, and before we could present a case against him to the grand jury, he was killed when his car exploded as he got in."

"Do you remember his name?" Danno asked.

"Charles Tavitian. The file should be here …" Jayna picked up some folders and looked at their labels. "I remember he was a mobster, too …" She handed a folder to Danno. "He was running several rackets on this island. Then, one of his employees was found murdered, and another agreed to testify that Tavitian had her killed. He skipped town and fled to the mainland, but was picked up there by federal authorities for bringing a killer across state lines. He was sentenced to five to twenty. …" Jayna turned a page. "He was sent back to Hawaii to face charges for the murder here, but was killed in an explosion in Honolulu before the state trial could begin. However, his right hand man, Hugh Markatos, was released on parole last month."

"You think Markatos is behind this?" Danno asked.

"Markatos was not only his assistant, but also his field man," Jayna replied. "He hired extra help when Tavitian needed someone killed or someone's bones broken. Markatos might have hired the shooter and the driver."

"Then he's a higher priority than Robles," Danno stated. "I'll check on him, Mays, and Chang. You take Robles and Marquez," Danno advised.

"We can check all the backgrounds and alibis in the world, but it's not enough to keep Steve safe." Jayna pressed her hands together. "If these people could get him at karate practice, they can strike anywhere, at anytime." She looked at Danno. "They'll get Steve again, some other way. I wasn't there to prevent him from being shot, but I'll make sure that no one comes near him again."

Danno didn't question her. He knew how Jayna felt about Steve, and when she made a resolve to protect him at all costs, she meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **I**

The head of the parole board was Leon J. Takashiro, a lawyer who took the direct approach when answering questions. Before Jayna could finish speaking, Takashiro answered in the negative about Frank Mays and Rudy Chang.

"Neither of them is eligible for parole now, and both are safely locked away in Oahu State Prison," he answered. "But Robles is coming up for parole in a few weeks …"

"What has his behavior been like the past few months? Any outbursts, visitors …? Has he made any threats to anyone like he did when he was found guilty?" Jayna asked.

"If he has, it wasn't within earshot of anyone, otherwise, we would have heard," Takashiro replied. "We have our own snitches in the prison system. Robles has been a model prisoner for the past five years, and he'll certainly try to charm his way around this parole board. There were no visitors except his lawyer and some of his old gang from his mobster days. I can get a list of them to you from Security Operations."

"That would be great," Jayna replied.

"Is there a chance of him getting parole?" Jayna asked.

Takashiro shook his head. "Personally, no, but we can't go by personal feelings. The determination will come from his conduct during incarceration, his remorse for his crimes, efforts at rehabilitation, mental state, education level, criminal history, and a bunch of other criteria. …" Takashiro waved his hand upwards in a dismissive gesture. "His criminal history alone should get him a 'no' vote, but if he puts on enough of an act to make the board members believe he's gone clean, they'll release him."

"Would it be possible for me to speak to him?" Jayna asked.

Takashiro made an incredulous glance at her. "You think he had McGarrett shot?" he asked.

"I don't know. All I know is he threatened me five years ago and now, those five years are almost up." Jayna tugged at her necklace, twirling the heart-shaped pendant around.

"The man who shot him said that five years were up – as though they were already over," Takashiro pointed out. "Robles is still in jail and it's not certain if his five years are up or not."

"What about Hugh Markatos?" Jayna asked.

Takashiro exhaled with a sigh and looked very wearily at her. "Markatos was serving five-to-twenty for drug trafficking …"

Takashiro hesitated before speaking, then opened his mouth. "He made parole last month. We don't know his whereabouts as of now. He's moved around a lot and we don't have updated information from his parole officer. He's looking for that information and will send it over. Markatos was living with a former girlfriend at first, then he left that place and went somewhere else. He had to report change of addresses to his parole officer each time, but no sooner was that information updated then he moved again."

"What was the girlfriend's name?" Jayna asked.

"Susan Corvis," Takashiro answered. "She's a hat check girl at the Polynesian Room."

Jayna wrote the name down. "Can you get me a list of Markatos' visitors as well?"

"Consider it done," Takashiro noted. "There's something else, though I don't know if it's of any importance …"

Jayna was all ears. "Spill it, Leon," she urged.

"Charles Tavitian's wife visited him a few times, and when she left, one of the guards saw her get into a limo, and there was another man sitting in the backseat. The guard said the man's face was covered in bandages."

It did sound strange, and there were any number of possibilities, but there was only one that came to the forefront of Jayna's mind, though she would much more proof than just a hunch that it was true.

 **II**

Nick Robles still maintained a youthful face, despite five years in prison. It was proof that the prison system favored some criminals over others, and any amount of palm-greasing will get them special privileges not shared by those inmates with empty pockets. Robles spent a lot of time on his tan and very little in the prison laundry or making license plates. His nails were neatly groomed and he was still able to flash perfect white teeth at Jayna when he saw her. The phoniness was not fooling anyone. Danno was angry, maintaining a steady sneer of contempt.

"Hello, there, Berringer," he said. "How's the girl?"

"About to charge you with conspiracy to commit murder if I get the evidence I need …" was Jayna's blunt reply.

It erased the smiling veneer. "Just what is this all about?" he asked.

"You know full-well what it's all about." Jayna leaned in, looking him in the eye.

"It's about Steve McGarrett," Danno retorted.

Robles didn't react. He kept his poker face, glaring back at the two detectives as though he didn't know what happened. Knowing how the prison grapevine operated, Danno and Jayna knew better.

"You heard us, Robles, and we know how news from the outside world makes it into prison," Jayna challenged. "I bet you were jumping up and down with joy when you heard Steve McGarrett got shot, only to be disappointed when you found out he was still alive."

Robles shrugged. "If he got shot, good for him. It's the best news I heard all day." His indifference didn't hide the fact that he knew more than he let on.

"Cut the act, Robles," Danno ordered. "You know all about McGarrett being shot because you ordered it. Anticipating an early release in a few weeks? What a stupid move to make, just before your parole hearing …"

"Why would I order McGarrett to be shot and ruin my chances of parole?" Robles asked, apathetically.

"Stranger things have happened." Danno leaned back, folding his arms. "You tell us. You're the one who threatened Det. Berringer and fifteen other people five years ago."

"That was then. I was angry. None of those people died, did they?" Robles pointed to Jayna.

"No, but that doesn't mean they won't start dying," Jayna said. "We're going to dig deep, and if we find you ordered the hit on McGarrett, I will personally see to it that you never get parole – now or ever!" Her voice rose where it reverberated around the room, and was enough to make Robles cower.

"You don't know what you're up against," he said, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"I know full-well what I'm up against," Jayna countered. "You picked the wrong woman to mess with, Robles." Her eyes turned fiery, and Danno could see Robles tremble a little, a glimmer of fear invading his face.

"You do that, and watch what you come up with …" he made a zero sign with his fingers. "Zilch. Because I'm innocent – this time."

"You have lied before," Danno said.

"Not this time," Robles insisted. "I'm going before the parole board in three weeks. I'm not going to ruin things by organizing a hit that can be traced back to me. Find another donkey to pin this tail on …" He got up. "I'm done." He waved to the guard who escorted him out.

Danno turned to Jayna, looking as calm as he was when they entered. Apparently, arguing with criminals like Robles didn't faze him, even when they were suspected of injuring his closest friend.

"You think he's telling the truth?" Danno asked.

"If he isn't, then he's never leaving this prison," Jayna replied. "It would be suicide for him to try a stunt like ordering a hit."

"Then we'll have to look for another donkey," Danno replied.

 **III**

Steve was able to sit up now, and the antibiotics kept coming. After the nurse made sure he had taken his latest round of medications, she fluffed up his pillows and adjusted the reading lamp. He had been sleeping all day and was wide awake now. He would fall asleep again, before dawn, but he was in for a few hours untouched by drowsiness. The view outside his window was changing from sky blue to bright orange and then shocking pink. Soon, the vivid colors would change to midnight blue and it would officially be nighttime. He wasn't expecting any visitors. Chin and Kono had already dropped by to update him on the investigation, including Jayna and Danno's meeting with Nick Robles. He expected his second-in-command and fifth-in-command to visit him tomorrow and tell him what they saw and heard.

Danno insisted on a twenty-four-hour guard for Steve. There were two officers stationed outside the room, changing places with another team of two every eight hours. Anyone and everything that entered had to get past them, a job the officers didn't mind, even when Chin brought Steve his favorite dinner – medium rare steak, baked potato, and sautéed carrots and broccoli from Chuck's Steakhouse. It was a better change from the hospital food he had been subjected to the past twenty-four hours. There were only so much creamed chicken and soggy string beans he could take.

Steve tried to read a chapter from a spy novel Jayna gave him, but the fantasy of fancy, hi-tech cars, beautiful girls in slinky dresses, and criminal masterminds out to rule the world did little to affect his imagination, with all the cloak-and-dagger intrigue he dealt with in real life. He put the book down and picked up a men's magazine. He was skimming his way through an article on men's fashions when the phone rang, and he picked up the receiver casually.

"Hello?" Steve asked.

"Mr. McGarrett," the hospital switchboard operator began, "an Officer Lukela would like to speak to you."

"Put him on, thank you." Steve waited to hear the voice of Sgt. Duke Lukela, the liaison officer with HPD.

"McGarrett?" the male voice asked. He spoke in a whisper. He still spoke audibly enough for Steve to discern that it was not Duke.

"Yes?" Steve asked, remembering the last time someone asked him about his name.

"Five years are up, McGarrett," the male voice responded. "Tell Jayna Berringer, we're going to finish the job."

Steve's adrenaline rose and his heart started to pound like a jackhammer. "Who are you? … What do you want?"

"Berringer should hope they're guarding you good, McGarrett. It's time to settle the score. Tell her: five years are up." There was the sharp click to indicate he had disconnected. Steve held the receiver loosely, letting it dangle as he dropped it and the cord fell between his fingers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **I**

Jayna sat on the edge of Steve's hospital bed, listening to him explain the phone call, while Chin wrote it all down. It angered Jayna just as much as when Steve was shot. Even in a guarded hospital room, he was not safe. She held his hand tightly, wrapping her fingers around his as he spoke.

"It's all right, Jayna," he comforted. "I'm still here. They haven't gotten me yet, and they never will." Steve's eyes sparkled slightly, indicating to Jayna that his charm and vitality were returning. It was comforting, but not enough for her. She would only be happy when whoever was responsible for putting a bullet in Steve's shoulder was sitting in a cell in Oahu State Prison.

"We had all calls recorded and traced," Chin replied. "Che is analyzing the recording of that call now. It was too short to trace, so you have to keep him talking if he calls again."

"They always know when we're tracing them," Steve replied. "I'll do the best I can, but this guy feels he's on top … that he's winning. He thinks he's got me painted into a corner with no way out. I'm in this hospital bed, with the phone my only connection to the outside world, apart from your visits. … He thinks he's got me scared, that I'm panicking, spending my days worrying about when and where he'll strike next and then …" Steve scrunched his hand into a fist. "POW! He'll strike and his vendetta will be satisfied, but we're not going to give him that."

"You're resilience is comforting," Jayna said, dryly, "but we're still in the middle of nowhere. Marquez's parole hearing hasn't occurred yet. Nick Robles denies any involvement, and with his parole hearing three weeks away, it would be foolish for him to order a shooting, even if he's confident that he'll get away with it. Hit men tell tales."

"Which is why you should check out the whereabouts of every local hit man, and those from the mainland," Steve advised. "Whoever is behind this might even order from abroad. Contact Karl Albrecht at Interpol and ask him for a dossier on all known international hit men." Steve was resuming his authoritative position once more, and that was a relief to Jayna, Danno, and Chin. It gave them a semblance of things going back to normal. "Once you're able to pinpoint which of these guys – and gals – are in the area, then it's a matter of putting them under surveillance till one of them leads you to whoever hired them, then we're closer to cracking this case."

"You make it sound so easy," Jayna said, still holding his hand.

"The easiest part of a case is when you're theorizing," Steve said, "because it doesn't require any digging, but I know you've got a rough road ahead." He leaned back onto the pillows, gently resting Jayna's hand on his upper leg. "And you're not going to get a load of cooperation from some people."

"Mays and Ching still need to be checked out," Jayna said, "even though neither of them is up for parole. Maybe the five-year mark means something else to them …"

"What about Hugh Markatos?" Steve asked. "He could be anywhere.

"I spoke to Susan Corvis," Danno said. "She said she picked him up from jail and he stayed with her for one week, then moved out. He said it was only temporary anyway and he wanted to get his own place. She doesn't know where he went. She says she's better off keeping away from him."

"Shooting me wouldn't serve Markatos' purpose," Steve said. "I had nothing to do with his arrest. That was Vice's department." Steve straightened up a little. "What was this business with Tavitian?"

Jayna took a lipstick tube out of her pocket and touched up her lips. "We were going to nail him for illegal gambling, prostitution, and drug dealing, along with several other things. He had an employee, a girl named Barbara Felix. She was a cocktail waitress at the Polynesian Room. Barbara was providing evidence to HPD about the drug operation – names, locations, dates – that would put Tavitian and a lot of others out of business. Then Barbara was killed. Her roommate Janice Tremont, saw two of Tavitian's goons shoot and kill Barbara."

"Janice has been in witness protection ever since," Danno added.

Jayna continued, "And then, Tavitian left the state, was caught and sent back here … only to be blown up when he turned on the ignition in his car. Markatos was arrested as a result of the information Barbara gave and has spent the past five years in jail."

"It would be just as foolhardy of him to send his goons out to shoot me as it would be for Robles and Mays," Steve replied.

"Especially when he's just been released," Chin added.

Steve ran his hand through his thick, dark chestnut hair. "Something tells me you shouldn't abandon Markatos and Robles yet. I keep thinking either one could be involved, or there is a link between them. Both were in organized crime on this rock. We can't leave any stone unturned."

"Kono's tapping all his contacts, and I've got some of my own to check in on," Jayna added. "I also want to get a hold of Tavitian's wife. I wasn't convinced she was telling the truth when her husband died."

"Julienne Tavitian was as tough as he husband, if not more so," Steve warned. "She won't break easily."

"I'll make her," Jayna replied, icily.

"Just be careful," Steve implored. "See you all tomorrow?"

"Sure, Steve," Danno said.

"You got it, Boss," Chin replied.

"See you later," Jayna said. She picked up Steve's hand and kissed it. He beamed in way that she hadn't seen in a while.

 **II**

Back in the safety and sanctity of her apartment, Jayna pulled out her notebooks detailing every case she worked on during the year of 1966. It was a longshot of the possibility that another case where she might have only lifted a fingerprint or interviewed a witness could be the key to this case, but she could leave no stone unturned. Something made her keep going to back to the Tavitian case. She had an entire notebook devoted to it. Tavitian was a powerful fixture in Hawaii's organized crime world. Tavitian's headquarters was at the Blue Flamingo on Hotel Street. The Polynesian Room was an annex catering exclusively to Polynesian-themed food and entertainment. It was a posh place from, and a deadly place as well. There had been many shootings in the parking lot alone, and inside the building in one of the backrooms Tavitian dealt, often permanently, with employees who crossed him or members of rival gangs.

Tavitian was more deadly than Robles could ever hope to be, but his legend was still exaggerated. Tavitian was human and only succeeded in his deadly endeavors because he had a bevy of goons willing to jump to his every command. His wife, Julienne, normally turned a blind eye to all this, knowing which side her bread – and silks and diamonds – was buttered on. He also had employees who would talk for a price, as long as they knew they would still live to enjoy their reward.

Tavitian was of Armenian and Greek stock, and it showed in his chiseled features, piercing dark eyes, thick black hair, and olive skin that stood out from the photo in the file. It was a handsome face, but it was a façade that concealed an ugly and gruesome personality. Many a body was buried in the sands of Waikiki and or tied to cement blocks and dropped to the floor of Muana Loa Bay on the orders that came from the thin lips on that face.

Barbara Felix wasn't buried in the sand or tied to a cement block and dropped off a boat into the Pacific. She was shot dead in her apartment by two men who came there on Tavitian's orders, because she knew about his drug smuggling operation, including names of pushers and drop-off locations – which she had been supplying to Vice for the past year. Barbara Felix was one of Tavitian's messengers. A secret compartment in her purse was where she hid the illicit substance – half a block of coke or some kilos of heroin – when she delivered it to the pusher. When the drugs made it successfully to the pusher, she got paid a nice three-figure sum, sometimes a four-figure one. It was lucrative for Barbara until she got arrested in a raid. In exchange for her freedom, she agreed to give the DA all the information she had on Tavitian's drug dealing operation: names of pushers, manufacturers, their locations, locations of drop-off points, customers, etc. It was going well until somehow, Tavitian found out and ordered her killed.

That was when Janice Tremont entered the picture. She was Barbara's roommate, who hid in a closet when the two gunmen entered. She heard them argue. Then she heard scuffling, furniture being knocked around, punches, screams, and gunshots. When she was certain the men had left, she came out of the closet and found Barbara lying dead on the living room floor, with two bullets in her chest. Janice wasted no time and headed for the nearest police station with her grisly tale. She recognized the men's voices and had seen them from the window when they arrived at the apartment building. After talking to John Manicote, the district attorney, they put her in protective custody while they built up a case against Charles Tavitian. Janice's testimony was enough to put Tavitian away for murder. However, Tavitian undoubtedly had friends in government who could easily manipulate the outcome of an investigation in his favor.

One of those friends was Senator Leland Marshall, who invited Tavitian to many of his fundraising events and private parties. Though there was never any evidence officially to link Marshall to any of Tavitian's criminal operations, there were plenty of whispers from informants and members of Hawaii's underworld who said that Marshall played a large role in helping Tavitian maintain those operations. Marshall was as powerful as Tavitian, and while he did not wield his power through murder and maiming, he could be just as ruthless. Marshall's method of operation was to have someone suspended or removed from their position, taking away their ability to investigate him. If the person persisted nonetheless, Marshall then resorted to his Plan B of having Tavitian and his men scare that person off, through beatings, drive-by shootings, and sometimes kidnappings. Murder was the third and last resort, though by then, the evidence trail steered far from Marshall to ever implicate him.

Marshall may have nothing at all do with Steve's shooting, and Charles Tavitian might not either, but Jayna could not overlook them. She was still suspicious of the way Tavitian died. After pulling out the report on his death, it all came back to her. A Friday night. Tavitian planned on going to the Blue Flamingo for some reviling and getting his business affairs in order. He said good-bye to his wife, Julienne, stepped outside, got into a black 1963 Jaguar, turned the key in the ignition, and got engulfed in flames as a bomb triggered to go off when the ignition was turned on was set off. The body and the car looked like charcoal when the fire was finally extinguished, and the only way to identify Tavitian was by his partially-charred wallet with his identification still intact inside, as well as a gold and sapphire ring he wore on his left ring finger. It was a gift from his Julienne, and had an inscription on the inside. It all looked too neat, too cozy … the body being completely destroyed by the fire to the point where even the teeth were useless for identification, and the ID in his wallet was still largely untouched by the flames, but so where other items like Tavitian's watch, his briefcase, and shoes. The forensic technician who examined the charred remains told Jayna that some things take longer to burn than others. Leather and metal might withstand heat longer, but not flesh and bone. It wasn't enough to convince Jayna then, and it certainly was unconvincing now. She had seen cases like this where deaths were faked, usually to collect insurance money, and she didn't put it past Tavitian to arrange the whole death scene to avoid a trial and jail time. All he had to do was get some poor drunk off the street, wine him and dine him, and when he was plugged with enough liquor not to be able to stand up, dress him up in one of Tavitian's suits and ties, put his watch and ring on the drunk's wrist and finger, put Tavitian's wallet in the drunk's pocket and his briefcase in his hand, and get him behind the wheel and put the key in his hand. The bomb would be all rigged up, and all they had to do was wait for the drunk to put the key in the ignition and then … BOOM!

It was a far-fetched idea, but not too far out of the realm of possibility.

 **III**

Irv Brasher was a private eye who Tavitian hired to spy on his rivals, including installing bugging equipment in their establishments and following them around the island. Irv also provided enough tips to HPD and Five-O to keep him in their favor, but he was always careful not to tip his hat to the point where it would get a bullet hole through it.

Despite the irregular hours of his job, Brasher maintained steady eating habits and did not indulge in the stereotypical bottle of Scotch hidden in his desk. His preferred drink was bourbon, drank in the company of friends. When Jayna entered, she didn't need to explain why she was there.

"Tough break about McGarrett," he said. He fanned himself with an empty folder.

"He's going to live," Jayna said. "It was just his shoulder. I guess I shattered your hopes."

Brasher didn't bat an eyelid at the insinuation, since he and McGarrett were not exactly on the friendliest of terms.

"I may not like him, but I don't wish him dead," he said. "I know you're here to find out who shot him."

"So far, so good." Jayna sat down and crossed her ankles.

"I don't know who that is by name," Brasher replied, "but word on the street in the weeks leading up to the shooting was a high-ranking cop was going to be cut down … and that it was to settle a score with another cop." He lit a cigarette and the smell of nicotine instantly permeated the room. Jayna had gotten used to the smell, though she didn't like it.

It was too obvious, but the actions of criminals weren't always covert or cleverly concealed. All it took was one or two drinks, and a hit man could shoot his mouth off to the wrong people and give himself away.

"Who talked?" Jayna asked.

Brasher raised his eyebrows. That was a question which, if he answered, and the wrong people found out he did, the consequences would be deadly. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and let it burn, creating a trail of ash that fell onto his desk, burning the ink blotter.

"If I tell you, it'll be curtains for me." He made the gesture of a knife going across his throat with his hand.

"Tell me and I'll make sure no one knows I heard it from you," Jayna demanded, uncrossing her ankles and leaning forward. "If you don't tell me, you'll never hear the end of this, and you know what I can do …"

Knowing about Jayna's showdown with Russian spies when Steve's life was threatened, Brasher knew better than to be uncooperative. He went to a table that held some mismatched glasses and coffee mugs. He took a handkerchief out of a drawer at the table and wrapped it around one of the coffee mugs, then handed it to Jayna.

"This is your answer," he said. Jayna took the handkerchief-wrapped mug and put it in her purse. "You'll get your name from the fingerprints."

"Thanks, Irv," she said, getting up. "I owe you one."

"Just keep my name out of this and we'll call it even," Irv said. He dumped his cigarette in an ashtray and lit up another as Jayna left the room. With all the smoke rings filtering the air, the office began to look like there had been a fire.

 **IV**

"The report just came back on the gray car," Danno said. "It is a Chevy Malibu. It's a loaner car used by a garage – Mick's Auto Repair on Colburn Street."

Jayna smiled. "That's one of Tavitian's legit businesses – when all they're doing is changing oil and fixing dented mufflers. Did you go to Manicote for a warrant and impound the car?"

"We got it and the car is in forensics now, getting overhauled," Danno replied, with glee.

"Now, we need the ballistics test …" Jayna pressed the intercom and told Jenny, Steve's secretary, to send in Che Fong.

Che was just as excited as Danno and Jayna had been over finding the car. "The shell casings are . 38 Super. They match the Colt Commander we found."

"We're on a roll, Danno!" Jayna said, clapping her hands together once. "Are there fingerprints on them?"

Che shook his head. "We can't have everything. These were placed in the gun by someone wearing gloves."

"What about the serial number?" Jayna asked.

"We managed to pull up the first three numbers," Che began. "They're one, hour, and eight. There's one type of Colt Commander that begins with those three numbers, and those were manufactured in nineteen-sixty."

"Then all we have to do is check gun registrations and see who is missing their 1960 Colt Commander," Jayna replied. "Or maybe loaned it to someone …" for that last sentence, her tone shifted from gleeful to grim. "What else have you got on the casings?"

"Not much more, till HPD runs them through the database to see if they match the MOs of any hitmen," Che answered.

"In the meantime, we'll check on that coffee mug Brasher gave me," Jayna said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **I**

Che Fong had analyzed the coffee mug. It sat on a tray on a table in his lab, covered in the black powder used for dusting and exposing fingerprints.

"The fingerprints belong to Harold Wong," he said. "He's got priors for burglary, auto theft, and assault and battery …" Danno opened the file and under Wong's work record, he saw what they were looking for.

"Look at this!" he pointed to something on the printed page.

"Wong worked for none other than Charles Tavitian," Jayna said. "Stealing cars for his auto theft ring, no doubt."

"We got Brasher to give us Wong in return for keeping his name out of this," Jayna began, "so what price will Harold Wong pay in return for his freedom?"

"The name of the man who ordered Steve's shooting?" Danno asked. "We could hope."

"He may not have any firsthand information," Jayna said, "but he heard that someone ordered the hit. We still have to try."

"I know he works on cars," Che said. "He currently works at an auto repair shop on Kapahulu Avenue."

"Let's pay him a visit, shall we?" Danno asked.

 **II**

The auto repair shop where Harold Wong had the typical grease and motor oil smell. The manager directed Danno and Jayna to a dented old Pontiac, under which a slender kid in grease-stained denims was tightening bolts with a monkey wrench.

"Harold Wong?" Danno asked. The kid slid out from under the car and looked at the two detectives mystifyingly. He as tall as Danno, around five-eight, and had the build of a track runner. He was Chinese, with a natural tan that spoke of some Filipino extraction. His eyes were black and suspicious, and his fingers long and thin, and shaky.

"Yeah …" he said. Jayna could sense his nervousness. The last thing they wanted was for this kid to shut them out.

"I'm Danny Williams and this Jayna Berringer of Five-O," Danno said. They showed him their badges. "Can we speak to you someplace private?"

Wong got up off the sliding board and walked towards a side door. "We can talk in here," he said. The room was an ordinary office, with desks and typewriters, but was otherwise unoccupied. Harold Wong was on parole, so he could not brush off any request from the police to speak to him. Despite that, he still trembled with fear.

"What is it?" Wong asked.

"We heard you were doing a lot of talking—about Steve McGarrett," Danno said, adding a tone of contempt when he said Steve's name.

"It seems you heard that a top cop was going to killed," Jayna added. "We'd like to know how you knew ... and remember, you're on parole and any hint of uncooperativeness could jeopardize that." Jayna was trying hard to be polite, but when Steve's wellbeing was concerned, she preferred to be more direct and less tactful.

"I don't … don't know who said it," Wong stammered.

"Yet you knew it was going to happen," Danno replied. "You didn't divine it out of thin air. Someone told you. Now, spill it or it's back to jail!"

Wong still trembled and tugged at the collar of his shirt. "No, sir, I … I just …" He was starting to panic. They had to put him at ease. Jayna pulled a chair over to him.

"Here, sit down," she said. Wong planted himself slowly onto the orange-upholstered chair. "Now, tell us everything – from the beginning."

"You got to promise … nothing's gonna happen to me!" Wong exclaimed. "They'll kill me if they know I talked!"

"Tell us now," Danno implored. "Tell us what you know."

"It was … Joey Maz … Maz … something. I don't know his last name …" The boy was trying hard to think, but nervousness was taking its toll.

"That's okay," Jayna assured him. "What did he tell you?"

"He said he hired someone to come here and kill a cop. I don't know who. He didn't say the cop's name …" Wong ran his hand through his hair. "I was at a bar. He was sitting a few feet away, with two other guys. They were drinking and laughing, and I heard him say so."

"What did he say, exactly?" Danno asked.

Wong thought for a moment, then answered, "The guy was laughing. He said, 'They're importing a cleaner.' The other guys sitting with him asked why, and he said it was to kill a top cop. He said, 'The one from Five-O.'"

Cleaner was slang for hit man and it was not uncommon for criminals to get drunk and spill the figurative beans. Many a case Five-O solved because of their loose lips.

"Have you ever seen this Joey before?" Jayna asked.

"Yeah. I seen him around … he sometimes brings his car in here," Wong answered.

"When did you hear him talking in the bar?" Jayna asked.

Wong hesitated, then said, "It was about … a month ago. I don't remember which day."

"We're going to need you to come downtown with us and make an official statement," Danno said, "and look through the mug books to identify Joey. We promise nothing will happen to you and we'll square everything away with your boss."

"Okay," Wong said. "I can't lose my parole, but you gotta keep it quiet. Many guys here are out of jail they still have connections back in the jug."

"We'll be as discreet as possible," Jayna said. "You stay here with Officer Williams while I go outside and talk to your boss." Jayna left to do just that, wondering what shred of information Wong could provide which will lead them to the next their next link.

 **III**

Walking back into his living room after one week in the hospital made Steve feel like an outsider. It went without saying that an experience such as the one he went through would change a person's way of thinking dramatically, as it had for Steve so many times, but this time was different. This wasn't an ordinary shootout where the shooters were killed or apprehended. This was a contract where he was the intended target, and whoever ordered it was not finished with him yet.

Officer Yamada, a young but seasoned member of HPD, accompanied Five-O's top cop into the apartment and checked behind curtains and doors, and made sure the balcony was secure. Steve settled onto his couch and stared at the wall. He wasn't looking at the painting of the seascape that hung on it. His mind was on something else.

"The place is all secure, Steve," Yamada said.

"Thank you, Chris," Steve replied. "You can sit anywhere you like. The refrigerator might need to be cleaned out and replenished. The milk will be spoiled by now." Steve picked up a light blue pillow and pressed it onto his lap. He was trying his best to hide his nervousness, but Officer Yamada could see right through the facade.

"It's all right to be nervous, Steve," he assured him. "I would be, too, if I was in your place."

"Thankfully, you're not," Steve replied. "Is there anything edible in the kitchen?"

"Officer Berringer was conscientious enough to do the grocery shopping," Yamada told him. "She made sure all your favorite foods were in here." He held up a fresh bottle of whole milk and a block of parmesan cheese. "There's also more packages of pasta and jars of tomato sauce."

Steve giggled. "Jayna's always looking out for me." He got up and went to the sliding doors that led to the balcony. He didn't dare open them, in case there was a sniper waiting in one of the buildings across the street. He quickly stepped away from the balcony and went into the kitchen.

Yamada held up a long, midnight blue box of spaghetti. "Will spaghetti be all right? There's sausage and onion tomato sauce to do with it."

"That'll be perfect," Steve replied.

 **IV**

The stenographer came in and typed up the statement, then Kono took Wong to look at the mug books. It didn't make Jayna feel any better. She shrugged her shoulders as if to ward off a chill that entered the room.

"We're getting there, but why can't it be faster?" she asked Danno. Chin tapped some ashes from his pipe into an ashtray.

"Steve's at home now, Jayna, under heavy armed guard. Duke assigned his best officers to the job. " Danno assured her.

"You know Steve," Jayna countered. "He'll insist on coming back to work."

"Not if the Governor can help it," Chin quipped. "He and the speaker of the house told Steve that he has to take the next week off."

"He's not going to sit around his apartment with an armed guard for a week," Jayna said. "He'll go mad."

"He'll find some way to be involved without stepping foot outside his apartment," Danno advised. "Dr. Winthrop said he was getting better."

"And we've got to make sure it stays that way," Jayna added. She walked from one side of the room to the other, smacking one fist over the other. She turned to Chin. "What did you find?"

"I spoke to the warden at Oahu State Prison." Chin tapped some more ashes out of his pipe. "He said Hugh Markatos was released last month. Does that name ring a bell?'

Jayna stopped, looking all around her as she tried to remember Hugh Markatos. A tall, rough-faced, steel-eyed character that made the rounds of Waikiki as Charles Tavitian's lieutenant, enforcing the mob justice Tavitian was too busy or apathetic to do himself. Markatos always did what Tavitian wanted. He was a top candidate for someone who would want not only her, but Steve dead as well.

"What was Markatos in for?" Jayna asked.

"Possession of an illegal substance," Chin replied. "Tavitian's gang trafficked Chinese white heroin. HPD was called in to one of Tavitian's nightclubs on a tip from an informant about a drug deal taking place. They searched it and found some bags of horse in a drawer. They didn't have enough to get Markatos for trafficking, but they could get him with the possession charge."

"So he spent five to twenty for illegal possession," Jayna said. She stopped at Steve's desk and picked up a paperweight. It was a see-through globe with a white-web around the bottom and a peach seashell inside. "The informant tipped me off and Steve ordered the raid. Barbara Felix was my informant." She put the paperweight back. The door opened, and they all looked up to see Kono. Barbara Felix was one of Tavitian's girls, a hostess at the Blue Flamingo who would up dead soon after that raid took place. There was no doubt that Tavitian ordered her death, and her roommate saw and heard her being killed and agreed to testify against Tavitian, though it meant her life if Tavitian could get any of his men near her. Her testimony sealed Tavitian's fate, leading to him skipping town before the trial could start.

"Harold made a positive ID from one of the mug shots," Kono said. He held out a file with the larger versions of the photos.

Danno took them and handed them to Jayna. "Joseph Mazzone," Jayna said. "Priors for assault with a deadly weapon and breaking and entering. Previous jobs include a bouncer at The Polynesian Room and a personal driver to Charles Tavitian. "He now spends his weeknights as a bouncer at the Blue Flamingo."

"And most recently, his hired a hitman," Danno added.

"It's all coming together," Jayna said, tiredly.

"Where is Joey Mazzone now?" Danno asked.

"He lives on Orchid Place," Kono answered.

"Avery scenic area," Jayna said. "Let's drop in on him." She took out her revolver and checked to make sure it was loaded and the safety was on. It was something she did every time she went to check on a suspect, and rarely did she have to use her gun but this time, she had the feeling she might need to use it.

 **V**

The apartments on Orchid Place were nearly new structures, built in the early sixties to accommodate the influx of new residents from the mainland after Hawaii achieved statehood. Orchids were planted in cement boxes in front of the building, giving the white building pops of pink, purple, and red. A list of names in the lobby said Joseph Mazzone was living in apartment 9B. Jayna and Danno took the elevator to the ninth floor and went to the door. They stood on either side, while Danno rang the bell. There was silence. They didn't even hear footsteps. Danno rang the bell again.

When there was still no answer, Jayna called out. "Joseph Mazzone, open up. It's Five-O! If you don't open the door right now, we'll kick it down!" There was silence again, and Jayna nodded to Danno, which was a universal signal shared by the two detectives to proceed as stated if Mazzone didn't answer. On the count of three, they thrust their respective right feet upwards into the solid wood, knocking it aside with a loud crack and boom. There was no one in the living room.

"You check around here and in the kitchen and I'll check the bedroom and bathroom," Danno told Jayna. She nodded as Danno went down the hall. He found Joey Mazzone, lying on the bed in the bedroom. His eyes and mouth were open, his mouth frozen in the formation of a sound of horror which Mazzone never got to utter, and blood spilled out from a bullet hole in his head.

Despite his nine years as a police officer, Danno was still not used to these ghastly sights. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, took a deep breath, then opened them again, and went to the phone to call HPD.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 **I**

It was a familiar sight: the forensic scientists walking about, gathering evidence, dusting for fingerprints, and taking photos. Doc Bergman examined the body and had it taken away to the lab. Two coroner assistants pushed the gurney carrying the sheet-covered body of Joey Mazzone out of the apartment while Lt. Nishimura wrote down Jayna and Danno's accounts of what they saw, which was not much. Given that they only found out about Mazzone an hour ago from identification made by Harold Wong, and no one except Chin and Kono knew they were going to see Mazzone, it was baffling how someone could kill him before they arrived, unless Mazzone's death just a coincidence and was not related to Steve's shooting, which they all doubted.

Che wiped his forehead and held out a plastic evidence bag containing a bullet. It had mushroomed, the top looking like a turquoise blue blob. "It looks like a .38 special," Che said. "We scooped this out of the wall. Most likely there's one or two more like it in Mazzone's body."

"Thanks, Che," Jayna said. As Che went over to talk to another forensic technician, Jayna examined the bedroom. There was no furniture overturned or even a lamp or ashtray out of place. That meant there was no struggle and Mazzone's killer either took him by surprise or they had a conversation before the gun was drawn out and fired.

Mazzone was in his late thirties, stocky, with a square and ruddy face, dark hair, and brown eyes. He would have stood around five-foot ten in his bare feet and both his arms were covered in tattoos that spoke of years in the navy. There was the customary anchor, nautical star, and hula girl. A sailor's tattoos tell a lot about their service, where they went, what action they saw, if any, what their jobs on the ship were, and statements of their faith and loyalty. Jayna wondered just what faith and loyalty Joey Mazzone possessed, and how it led him to try to kill a fellow sailor.

"Either someone was watching us and listening to everything we said, or someone had Mazzone on their radar already," Danno surmised.

"It's a stretch to say that our office was bugged," Jayna replied.

"It was once … before." Danno shot a brief but contemptuous glance at Jayna, referring to how Steve's office had been bugged one year before, when Jayna pretended to have died in a shooting so she could go on an undercover espionage assignment. It was Jayna's decision to install bugging equipment in Steve's office, a decision which saved his life but nonetheless caused a lot of stress for him and Five-O team. Jayna didn't blame Danno for him momentary lapse of disdain. For more than one month, he, Steve, Chin, Kono, DA Manicote, Jenny, Governor Jameson and the entire state of Hawaii believed she was dead. There was even a state funeral and the flag that covered her coffin was presented to Steve instead of her next of kin, a wish that Jayna had put in writing in real life, should she really die in the line of duty. It pained her to know Steve was in so much grief, but it had to be done, for the security of Hawaii, the world, and to save Steve's life. It was not as though she went into that assignment willingly. Jonathan Kaye had a way of getting her out of retirement to take up the cloak and dagger once more, and it came in the form of Steve McGarrett's life. She didn't trust that Kaye would keep his word and leave Steve alone if she complied, so she had to monitor him somehow.

"Would you have preferred that I let Steve die?" Jayna shot back.

"You could have let us in on what you were doing," Danno countered.

"Then we would all be dead," Jayna snapped. She knew Danno was only letting out steam. He never really got a chance to say what he wanted to because the time was not right. It never is. He exhaled and closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"I'm sorry, Jayna," Danno said.

"It's all right," Jayna assured him. "You needed to get it out of your system." She examined the floor around the body. Something in Mazzone's hand caught her eyes. The fingers of his right hand were clenched in a fist. It was a hunch, but she bent down and gently pried the fingers loose. There were some blonde hairs about twelve inches long.

"One his killers was either a woman or a hippy," Jayna told Danno.

 **II**

A blonde-haired girl swiped the brush through her cornsilk mane gently but with a purpose. She hoped to fluff it out, still feeling the sting from when the few strands were ripped out. No one could tell by looking at her but the singeing pain made her think an entire tuft had been ripped off her scalp. A tall, Mediterranean man with black hair and olive skin stood behind her chair, perched in front of a vanity with a gilt-frame. It was Hugh Markatos.

"Your hair is beautiful enough," he told her.

"Not after Joey got his grimy hands on it," she snarled. "It'll take several shampoos to get the smell of him out of it."

"But only three bullets to get rid of him," the man added. He leaned in and stared at his own reflection in the mirror. "He won't be opening his big mouth anymore."

"I just hope no one saw me," the girl said as she brushed the ends of a section of hair and let it fall on her shoulder.

"Charlene, I wouldn't ask you to do this kind of job unless I knew you could get in and out easily," Markatos told her. Charlene turned to him, pointing the brush at him in a menacing manner.

"And the next time you ask me to such a foolhardy thing, you make sure it's in the dead of night, in a soundproof building, where everyone is dead to this world," she ordered.

"You got it, baby." Markatos kissed her on the lips. Charlene dropped the brush onto the vanity's tabletop. She pulled her head back and resumed putting on her makeup.

"I hope Julienne appreciates all we're doing," she said, pressing some moisturizer onto her face. "It's hard to cover your tracks with a body count rising."

 **III**

Irv Brasher was not surprised to see Jayna Berringer back in his office, nor was he exactly happy to see her. He glared at her like an angry wildcat.

"What do you want this time?" he asked.

"Don't you read the papers, Irv?" Jayna asked. "Your friend Wong talked and Joey Mazzone, the man he fingered, was shot dead before we could question him. Just why was Harold Wong in here? Why did you have a twenty-year-old kid on parole for auto theft in your office? Are you offering an internship program now?"

"Sort of," Irv said, tugging at his collar. "I hire the kid to some odd jobs for me from time to time."

"What kind of jobs?" Jayna asked, her patience growing thin.

"The job at the garage … and he sometimes moonlights as a parking lot attendant at the Polynesian Room." Irv stood up.

"Since when are you a co-manager at the Polynesian Room?" Jayna asked. "Do you see where this is going?"

"No," Irv answered, "and I don't want to."

"Well, you're going to!" Jayna snapped. "All this leads back to Charles Tavitian and you're in the middle of it. I kept your name out so far, but if there's one more body that winds up on a morgue slab because you or one of your associate, I'll throw you all in the slammer for good."

Irv didn't bat an eyelid. He knew Jayna meant business and her heightened anger wasn't because Joey Mazzone was killed, but because Steve McGarrett was shot. Jayna wasn't blowing her throat when she made those threats, yet he was not going to cower to her.

"When I gave you Harold Wong, it was for real. He told me about what he heard Mazzone say. Why would I lead you to Mazzone if he had nothing to do with McGarrett getting shot? It doesn't help me any to get Mazzone killed. Tavitian's dead, so he's not going to come after any of us."

"Then who would want him dead?" Jayna asked. "If Mazzone is dead, someone knows he talked and didn't want him talking anymore, and they might be onto you and Wong."

"I wouldn't have given you Wong's name if someone could come after me for it," Irv answered. He flicked a paperclip across his desk.

"Don't be so sure you're home free," Jayna shot back. "In this business, no one is safe. Steve McGarrett can't even go out and has a police guard twenty-four hours a day. I'm not going to allow him to live like that forever. If you want to retain your investigator's license—and your life—you'll tell everything … everything!"

"Just what do you want?" Irv asked, exasperated.

"Who was in the car when McGarrett was shot?" Jayna asked.

"I don't have that name and if I did, I wouldn't tell you. That would definitely get me killed." Brasher brushed a hairy knuckle across his cheekbones. "I'd tell you to go back to the drawing board and check all your files on local and mainland hit men. You'll find your man in there."

"That's what we are doing," Jayna fumed. "Narrow it down for me." She was leaning on him and was not about to budge. She could see the fear in his eyes, and pushing him too far would not get her the results she wanted, but she was sure enough that that going this far would yield something.

"Check the manifest from all Hawaiian Airlines flights coming out of LA from last week. He came from the mainland. That's all I know," Irv hinted.

 **IV**

The chart listed Hugh Markatos, Nick Robles, and Louis Marquez. Markatos had a check mark under his name to correspond with the vertical column that read, "Opportunity." Robles and Marquez were in jail, waiting for their parole hearings to begin. They weren't going to spoil their chances of being released. Danno found out that Marquez's parole hearing was not for four months. He had been a model prisoner up till now, so it would be foolish for him to order McGarrett to be shot, especially if the shooting could be traced back to him.

Jayna turned to Chin. "What did you find out about the mainland hit men?"

"We cross-referenced the passenger lists from Hawaiian Airline flights from LA to Honolulu with the hit men in the national database. At least three are known to be in Hawaii," Chin replied. "Victor Andreni, Calvin Hensley, and Rizaldo Villegas." Chin stuck their pictures onto another chart. Victor Andreni was another rough-faced character with a square jaw, deep-set eyes, wide forehead, and mop of curly black hair. Calvin Hensley was the opposite – younger, with a smoother, youthful face, sandy blonde hair, aquiline nose, and a thin upper lip. Villegas was a Filipino in between Andreni and Hensley's ages. He had short black hair neatly cut around his head, unblemished skin, and a deadpan face. Andreni was a marksman, while Hensley was an electronics and explosives man. Villegas was a heavy. He wasn't called upon to kill, but to injure or threaten. Somehow, though, all three are here at the same time, and it's no coincidence.

"When did each one arrive in Hawaii?" Jayna asked.

"Andreni stepped off the plane two weeks ago," Chin answered, "on the seventh. Hensley arrived on the tenth, and Villegas flew in on the seventeenth."

"Any tracking of their movements since they arrived?" Danno asked.

"Andreni has been spotted in several clubs and bars," Chin replied. "He's currently living at the Hilton Hawaiian Village. Hensley hasn't been seen around much, except at a dive out in Waikiki. He's said to be staying at the Ewa. Villegas has family in Honolulu, in several spots. My contacts aren't sure where. They're trying to find out."

"It looks odd, Jayna," Danno interjected. "Brasher took a huge risk – and he and Harold Wong are both alive and well. Maybe his information is just a ruse to distract us so he can protect whomever is behind this."

"Then why kill Mazzone?" Jayna asked. "I know, these guys have no love for each other, and Tavitian would have thrown anyone under a bus, even if they were innocent of wrongdoing, but it's stretching things a lot to think he would have someone killed who was not a threat to him and hadn't talked at all."

"We don't know if Harold Wong saw anything," Chin pointed out. "He could have made the whole story up."

"Yet they wanted us to believe it enough that they killed Mazzone," Jayna pondered. Che Fong and Lt. Nishimura entered and knocked on the doorway.

"Come on in," Jayna waved. Che had a harried look, which meant that either something was bothering him, or he had been very busy and had a lot to tell. Jayna hoped it was the latter.

"We finished processing the evidence from Mazzone's apartment," he began, "and we found the fingerprints from two people in the bedroom."

"A thumbprint matched Victor Andreni's," Nishimura said. "It was on the bedroom doorframe … and a right index finger and right thumbprint were on a bedpost knob. They belong to Sherman Jing. He's an employee at the Polynesian Room."

"The plot thickens," Jayna said. "What about the blonde hair?"

"It came from a woman and was coated a blonde hair dye typical of most drug store brands," Che answered. "That's all we could find on her. She was careful not to leave any fingerprints."

"Three's a too much of a crowd for this party," Danno interjected. "No one saw anyone enter that place – least of all a blonde-haired woman. They could all be lying out of fear, but who's ever heard of sending three people to kill one person in a tiny apartment?"

"I don't think the woman was there to kill him …" Che handed Jayna a report. Abrasions and traces of vaginal secretions were found on Mazzone private parts.

"So he was either raped or had consensual sex before he died," Jayna said.

"Since he was found fully clothed, it might have been consensual, or the woman dressed him up after killing him," Chin suggested.

"That he had strands of her hair in his hand says there was a struggle and it rules out consensual sex," Danno countered.

"Whatever the case, it tells us why the mystery blonde was there," Jayna concluded. "What have you got, Ken?"

Nishimura was looking at the two charts with the photos of the gangsters and the hit men. "Markatos has settled into a spacious house on Noela Drive," he said. "… Charles Tavitian's house, where his wife still resides. And the place is like a fortress. With no evidence to tie him to any crime, we can't even a get a warrant."

"But can't we do so if two known employees of his late boss was in the bedroom of a murdered man?" Danno asked.

"Only if we can prove one of them pulled the trigger," Chin replied, gesturing with his pipe. "Even then, they might clam up."

"Then we need to get to them … before they wind up like Mazzone," Jayna replied. "Ken, put a twenty-four-hour tail on Andreni and Jing."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

 **I**

There was nothing like sleeping in one's own bed, after one week of lying on hospital mattress that felt like a stone slab. Though Steve had his arm in a sling, he was able to get up by himself, brush his teeth, shave, shower, dress, and make coffee and scrambled eggs and toast a roll for himself. He turned on the percolator to make a fresh pot of coffee, then went into the living room and turned on the TV. After flipping through game shows, soap operas, talk shows, and the news, he turned off the set and fixed his eyes on the photocopies of the case files and written notes on the investigation so far. He picked up the file on Charles Tavitian.

Danno and Jayna gave him daily updates on the case, but so far, they were nowhere close to finding any concrete proof that Hugh Markatos or any of the other men Jayna investigated five years ago were responsible for shooting Steve.

Maybe Markatos' vendetta – if he was behind this – was not directly aimed Steve, but at Jayna, and Steve was the way he would get to her. It was not uncommon for gangsters to mete out vengeance by going after the loved one of their target rather than the target themselves. He also entertained the idea that the unknown assailant might not be any of these men, but a forgotten face from their past who felt that he and Jayna wronged him or her or someone close to them and was out for blood. That person might never have seen the inside of a jail cell and might have been someone they questioned in an investigation.

Tavitian was of Armenian and Greek stock, and it showed in his chiseled features, piercing dark eyes, thick black hair, and olive skin that stood out from the photo in the file. It was a handsome face, but it was a façade that concealed an ugly and gruesome personality. Many a body was buried in the sands of Waikiki or tied to cement blocks and dropped to the floor of Muana Loa Bay on the orders that came from that fine-chiseled face.

Barbara Felix wasn't buried in the sand or tied to a cement block and dropped off a boat into the Pacific. She was shot dead in her apartment by two men who came there on Tavitian's orders. Barbara was one of Tavitian's drug couriers. A secret compartment in her purse was where she hid the illicit substance – half a block of coke or some kilos of heroin – when she delivered it to the pusher. She got paid a nice three-figure sum, sometimes a four-figure one, depending on the severity of the risk. It was lucrative for Barbara until she got arrested in a raid. In exchange for her freedom, she agreed to give the DA all the information she had on Tavitian's drug dealing operation: names of pushers, manufacturers, their locations, locations of drop-off points, customers, etc. It was going well until somehow, Tavitian found out and ordered her killed.

That was when Janice Tremont entered the picture. She was Barbara's roommate, who hid in a closet when the two gunmen entered. She heard them argue. Then she heard scuffling, furniture being knocked around, punches, screams, and gunshots. When she was certain the men had left, she came out of the closet and found Barbara lying dead on the living room floor, with two bullets in her chest. Janice wasted no time and headed for the nearest police station with her grisly tale. She recognized the men's voices and had seen them from the window when they arrived at the apartment building. After talking to John Manicote, the district attorney, they put her in protective custody while they built up a case against Charles Tavitian. Being a powerful mobster, Tavitian undoubtedly had friends in government who could easily manipulate the outcome of an investigation.

That was when Steve's memory shifted to Senator Leland Marshall. Tavitian was known to pal around with Marshall, attending the Senator's exclusive parties, contributing to his campaign, etc. Gangsters funded politicians in order to infiltrate the government and influence it to their favor, gaining building contracts and land development deals, among other things. With Tavitian's death, his widow, Julienne, who was just as business savvy as her late husband, picked up where he left off, running the Blue Flamingo and his other legitimate operations – and purportedly some illegitimate ones. Steve had no doubt.

In the meantime, Janice Tremont had to wait … watching to make sure Tavitian's men didn't find out where she was and come after her. The two men Janice identified were arrested and plead guilty, avoiding a trail and having to implicate their vengeful boss.

Tavitian met his end suddenly, but not surprisingly. He went out to his car, parked in front of his house, turned on the ignition, and the car and everything in it – including him – went up in flames. Tavitian was identified by a custom-made watch that was still on the burnt corpse's wrist, and a wallet with his initials on it. It was a convenient death, not just for Tavitian, but for his wife, who collected a sizable payout from the insurance company.

Just then, Steve's shoulder ached and he set the papers down. He slowly rotated his left shoulder, doing the simple exercise the physical therapist taught him to keep the muscles flexible. He tugged at the left sleeve of his orange cardigan to smooth it out, a simple act of vanity that won over when more important issues were at hand. The doorbell rang. Upon opening it, the HPD officer assigned to guard Steve announced his visitor, John Manicote, Honolulu County's eminent district attorney. Manicote greeted Steve cordially and waited for the HPD officer to shut the door before he spoke.

"How's my team doing?" Steve asked. He ushered Manicote into the living room and told him to take a seat anywhere.

Once Manicote settled into a green armchair, he answered, "They're doing well," Manicote answered. "Chin found out that three hit men were imported from the mainland in the weeks before you were shot. One of them, Victor Andreni, was in Joey Mazzone's apartment, along with Sherman Jing, one of Tavitian's employees. Che found their fingerprints in the bedroom."

Steve could not show his elatedness more obviously. "I needn't worry about who's minding the store, but now we need to worry about the clientele we're getting." His mirth turned to dourness in a split second. "Jayna explained the incongruity of this – why kill Mazzone and leave the two men who named him alive? It could be a trick, but why kill an innocent man to do it?"

"It means someone wanted Mazzone out of the way for another reason – if we buy this is all a ruse," Manicote replied, "but we also need to consider that it might be real – that Mazzone was driving the car. He'd know who shot you, and if he was able to open his mouth in a bar after a few drinks and tell all, then he could easily brag about being that hit man's driver as well after the fact."

Steve tapped his foot against the gold carpet. "It doesn't explain why Brasher and Wong are in the clear, but neither actually knew who the triggerman was, just that Mazzone bragged about knowing one was coming," he countered. "Mazzone's death would have come to our attention even if we only heard about him from being a body in a crime scene HPD investigated. We would have still found Jing and Villegas' fingerprints, and the road would lead right back to Tavitian – who is supposed to be dead."

"It might be Markatos behind this after all. He's too confident of himself …" the DA clenched his fist, "… and he's probably laughing at us, while he sits around in that mansion of his, while we're racking our brains, trying to figure out if he ordered you to be shot or not."

Steve was carefully pondering the situation. He snapped his fingers, an absent-minded habit of his, and got up, pacing up and down in front of red jacquard curtains that obscured glass doors in a safety measure.

"It wouldn't hurt for someone to pay him a visit, just to question him as a person of interest," he suggested.

Manicote raised an eyebrow. "If that is done, it won't be by you," he admonished, pointing his finger at Steve. "You're under doctor's orders not to leave this apartment and not to do anything that could cause you stress."

"And sitting around here while the man who shot me is unknown and still at large is going to help me relax?" Steve asked, not hiding his sarcasm. He leaned back and crossed his legs.

"You are not going to confront Markatos," Manicote ordered. "If he is our man, we don't want him to know we're on to him, and if he isn't, he'll accuse us of harassment."

"Like anyone would take his side?" Steve asked.

"They won't, but a man with pockets as deep as Tavitian will have a lot of connections – including people in positions that can use their influence to shut us down," Manicote warned. "He'll look for a reason to take you down – if not with a bullet, by having you suspended or fired. I can only do so much. We have to handle this with kid gloves."

"Then we'll do it through official channels," Steve said. "Hugh Markatos is a suspect in a police investigation, so he's going to be questioned as a part of it. I'll have Jayna and Danno do it, and we'll have Tavitian's house put under surveillance as well. Jayna spoke to Markatos' parole officer and he finally got Markatos' current address. He's at Tavitian's house now."

"All right, do that, but nothing more," Manicote consented. The coffee percolator beeped from the kitchen and Manicote told Steve he would get it. Returning into the living room with a tray containing a coffee pot, two mugs, two saucers, two spoons, and cream and sugar containers, he set it on the coffee table and served it.

"Just who might have been on the receiving end of one of Tavitian's generous handouts?" Steve asked as Manicote handed him a mug of black coffee.

"We have no direct proof, but it is part of the case we're putting together," Manicote answered as he poured a teaspoon of sugar into his mug.

"Give, John," Steve demanded. "Don't hold back now. You were never reluctant to give out information before. You know whatever you tell me in confidential until we prove it." He poured cream and spooned some sugar into his coffee and stirred until the black liquid turned a buff color.

"Senator Leland Marshall," Manicote spoke bluntly.

Steve recognized the name and knew the senator's face from his photo in the newspaper. He always suspected that Marshall had ties to organized crime because of the company he kept.

"Tavitian was bribing Marshall?" Steve asked.

"I don't think it's that direct," Manicote answered. "Tavitian owned or has a hand in operating several legit businesses – the Polynesian Room, the Blue Flamingo, check-cashing centers, restaurants, a construction company, and a vending machine distributor. Marshall might be getting bribes from some of these places in return for favors, like granting building permits to Tavitian's construction company in return for a kickback, or waiving a bad health inspection report for one of his restaurants, or getting a nightclub a liquor license without having to pay the fee." Manicote took a sip of coffee. "We had Tavitian under surveillance for a time five years ago, and we saw Marshall going to his house on several occasions, then we saw projects with Tavitian's construction company getting green-lit. When Marshall ran for re-election in sixty-eight, he didn't have to do much fund-raising. His campaign funds were already there, and increased over time. We were suspicious even then, but had no proof."

"What happened to get you to tie Marshall to Tavitian?" Steve asked. "So far, you've got meetings where no one heard what was said, coincidences, and suspicion."

Manicote took a deep breath. The amount of suspense building up was not making Steve anxious, but annoyed.

"Barbara Felix was his lover," Manicote confessed, "and Janice Tremont knew. She would pass messages to Barbara on Marshall's behalf. Barbara told us this before she was killed, and mentioned letters he wrote to her. Janice said Barbara told her what was in those letters, or so Janice wants us to believe."

"So you never read them?" Steve asked.

"Barbara had them in a safety deposit box. She gave them to us, but they were inconclusive – just the standard love-letters. Nothing revealing in them. They only proved there was an affair going on."

Steve tapped his spoon on the rim of his mug and set it on the saucer.

"Barbara continued seeing Marshall, but he was suspicious since he knew she was picked up in the drug raid. She he was in fear that he would have her killed," Manicote went on.

"And they did," Steve replied. He picked up his coffee cup and sipped it. "We've seen it before, John … leaks in the system. Security breached because the mob has someone on the inside …" Steve picked up the coffee pot and held it out Manicote to signal if he wanted more. The DA shook his head. "Are you sure no one on your staff could have told Tavitian or Marshall about Barbara?"

"No, everyone was carefully vetted," Manicote argued. He looked worn out, but that was normal when dealing with a high-stakes investigation like this, with suspects all around and a body count that keeps rising.

"We've got to find tangible evidence that links everyone together – Tavitian, Marshall, Barbara Felix, Janice Tremont, Joey Mazzone, and everyone else whose names come up. It looks like we can't really cross anyone off the suspect's list." Steve clenched his fist and shook it.

"You may just get it," Manicote informed him. "The autopsy report on Joey Mazzone was completed. He engaged in sexual intercourse before he died, and there were strands of long blonde hair in the bedroom."

"So he hada tryst before Andreni fired two bullets into him," Steve pondered. "That suggests the girl was there to distract him. Andreni entered at an inopportune moment, opened fire, and killed Mazzone. They dressed Mazzone up again and wiped away all the girl's fingerprints."

Manicote managed a tired smile. "I knew you would find a way to get involved – even with your am in a sling and while never leaving your apartment."

"That's what they pay me for," Steve said, impishly.

 **II**

Senator Leland Marshall was a man of distinguished stature – not just professionally but physically. He stood around six feet tall and possessed a slender build, a full head of silver hair, placid blue eyes, Grecian nose, and a thin mouth. He caught the eyes of many women, and managed to maintain his marriage to a member of one Hawaii's upper crust families. Marshall was the kind of man who commanded power and expected his every word to be adhered to, but he didn't show any outwardly traits that could be identified as tyrannical. There was always a smile, a gleam in those gentle eyes, and the unsaid knowledge that what he said, went.

He stood on the railing of the grand staircase in the territorial building, looking at everyone going about their business in the lobby. A tap on his shoulder made him turn around to see his assistant, Ethan Archer, nervously awaiting his undivided attention.

"A man is here to see you, sir," Ethan said. "He said his name is Richard Culpepper, the assistant DA."

"Tell him I'll be with him in a minute." Marshall replied. Ethan went back inside the office and Marshall slowly turned and strode in after him. Ethan was now at his desk, typing away. Richard Culpepper was waiting quietly in Marshall's office, and greeted him formally.

"What brings you here?" Marshall asked, settling into a leather swivel chair.

"I'm here on behalf of District Attorney Manicote," Culpepper began. Culpepper tapped his finger on the top of his knee.

"And just what does John want?" Marshall asked, jovially. Despite Marshall's relaxed attitude, Culpepper maintained his formality, not knowing Marshall at all and knowing the reason why Manicote sent him to speak to him.

"We want to know if you have been in touch with Charles Tavitian since he moved back to Honolulu," the assistant DA said, bluntly. "It's no secret you two were friendly with each other a while back."

Marshall was caught off guard by that question, but managed to jump right back into his nonchalant persona from earlier. "Tavitian? That was a long time ago … five years ago, to be exact. He was someone I rubbed elbows with at parties from time to time, but I was never more than a casual acquaintance. I try to distance myself from those criminal types. I would never associate with such people by choice …"

Culpepper knew what he really meant and that no other line of questioning would make Marshall reveal more than he already did.

"Tavitian had a dangerous hold over this city, sir, and we're trying to make sure he doesn't regain his hold again," Culpepper replied. "He might be involved in a murder and a shooting that occurred recently …"

"McGarrett, wasn't it?" Marshall asked. "The chief of Five-O? I read that he got shot. How is he doing?"

"Doing fine. He's recuperating very well," Culpepper replied.

"Tell him I send my regards," Marshall said. He picked up a paperclip and unfurled it.

"I will," Culpepper promised. He got up to leave. "Manicote will be speaking to you sometime soon. He's very concerned about Tavitian's presence here. Any cooperation you provide will be appreciated."

"I'll make sure to cooperate in any way," Marshall said.

"You can by telling us your whereabouts last Thursday night." Culpepper was blunt, wasting no time with ceremony or diplomacy – especially when it came to violent crime.

"Am I a suspect already?" Marshall asked.

"We're still investigating," Culpepper replied. "Your whereabouts, sir."

"I was at home, with my wife and two dinner guests – the Mortensons. Joe Mortenson is from the chamber of commerce."

"I know who he is," Culpepper said, writing the name down. "From what time to what time were they at your house?"

"They arrived at around seven in the evening and stayed till midnight. We had a catering company take care of dinner – Fiorento's in Waikiki. I can give you their number, too, if you need it."

"Yes, we'll need it." Culpepper looked up from his writing.

"I'll have Ethan give it you on your way out," Marshall replied. He had an air of confidence around him, a smugness that Culpepper found off-putting, and chilling. Nonetheless, he could not come out and tell the senator openly. The phoniness might be typical of a politician, who has to say what the people want to hear to get their votes, but it still reeked of dishonesty. Culpepper could usually tell when someone was lying. It was like he had built-in radar that sounded whenever he heard a falsehood uttered. The radar was resonating loudly within the assistant DA's suspicious mind.

"Have you been in touch with Hugh Markatos at all? He was Charles Tavitian's lieutenant and he was recently released from prison."

If Marshall knew Markatos, he did a good job of hiding it. There was not look of recognition on his face when Culpepper said his name.

"No. I hardly spoke to him when I did associate with Tavitian." Marshall shook his head. Culpepper decided that was as far as he was going to get with the senator – this time around.

"That'll be all for now. Thank you for your time, sir. I'll see myself out."

"You're welcome, Culpepper," Marshall said. "Give my regards to John Manicote." The smugness didn't fade. Culpepper was beginning to get an unsettling feeling, and decided it was best to leave before he felt worse. Despite any physical evidence, he knew not to cross Leland Marshall off the suspect list anytime soon.

"I will." Culpepper turned and walked out. Marshall looked around, waiting for the smoke to clear.

 **III**

"He's denying everything, just like you said," Culpepper told his boss. John Manicote sighed, wrinkled his forehead, and nodded tiredly. Culpepper, being young and enthusiastic, took the direct route in questioning, keeping emotions out. He wasn't attached to this case the way Manicote was, the latter being a close friend of Steve's and Culpepper knowing the top cop only through standard greetings at public functions and formally during trials.

"I didn't expect you to get very far with him," Manicote replied. "Until we find evidence that implicates Sen. Marshall beyond any doubts, we have to keep our distance and do nothing to anger him. With one phone call, he could put us all out of a job." Manicote twirled a pen between his fingers. "Yet I know he's involved somehow."

"He has an alibi," Culpepper reported. "I checked with the Italian restaurant that catered his dinner party and spoke to the Mortensons. They were at Marshall's house from seven till midnight like he said, and Marshall was not absent for any long period of time. However …" Culpepper looked at his notes, lifting up the sheet on which the information was written, "Mr. Mortenson said that Sen. Marshall left the room for a few minutes each time – at least three times that night that he recalled. He didn't know where Marshall went, but it was not out of the house. He said he went out the living room and down the hallway and into the library. Mrs. Mortenson also noticed that. He might have been making a phone call …"

"I'll see if the phone company will comply, but we'll have to get a court order," Manicote advised.

Steve McGarrett was silent up until this point. He insisted on coming in to Manicote's office today, and the DA consented, on the condition that Steve returns to his apartment with the police guard when his business was finished. Steve's dark chestnut hair was combed and neatly parted on his right, with a curvy tuft falling over his right temple. Decked out in a dark blue suit, light blue shirt and light blue paisley tie, with his arm tucked into a white hospital-issued sling, one who didn't know any better would think that he was a cover model for a men's magazine instead of the chief of a state police unit.

"While we have to stay within the confines of the law, we have to be a little daring as well," Steve interjected. "What do we know about Marshall, other than his public record?"

"The DA's office did an investigation back then, but we could only go so far before his lawyers got in the act and threatened a lawsuit," Culpepper replied. "I wasn't here back then, but I read the case file. Marshall is in this up to his ears, but yet he's managed to stay one step ahead of us."

"He's got to slip up somewhere, sometime," Steve hoped. "He's got too much going on now, and he's involved in this hit. I know it." Steve clenched his good hand into a fist and gently pounded the armrest.

"What this boils down to, is who is trying to go after Jayna and is using you to do it," Manicote replied. "Tavitian is dead. Markatos has just been released from prison – after five years, like the shooter said."

"I thought about it, too, John," Steve replied. "Hugh Markatos was Tavitian's enforcer. Once he got out, he could have given the signal to kill me. He knew when and where to get in touch with these triggermen. They knew I would be at the karate school on Thursday night, which means they were watching me all along."

"Saying 'Five years are up,' puts the emphasis on whoever was serving that sentence, which makes Markatos Prime Suspect Number One," Culpepper countered. "But just how did he put this all together so quickly? I checked with Oahu State Prison, and the only visitors he had were his lawyer and Charlene Odom. His conversations with Odom were monitored and he said nothing suspicious to her. It was the usual conversations between lovers. The conversations with the lawyer could not be monitored, as is the law."

"What's the lawyer's name?" Steve asked.

"I can answer that …" Jayna Berringer called out from the doorway. Steve turned around and smiled warmly at her as she entered. Jayna smiled at back at Steve as she grasped his hand. "Glad to see you on the outside."

"It makes me feel good, too," Steve said. "Glad to see you inside. Who's the lawyer?"

"Bernie Jordan." Jayna spoke the name with contempt. Jordon was one of many local lawyers who earned their living defending members of Hawaii's underworld.

"HPD did some digging, and they managed to get a hold of Victor Andreni's phone bill from the Hilton." She handed a copy to Steve and one to Manicote, who showed it to Culpepper. "He made a few called to Jordan's number, and a few to Charlene Odom."

"Arrested for assault on one occasion," Culpepper said. "She's also very athletic – does bodybuilding and used to run track and field. She's even competed at the Olympics. No shrinking violet. Maybe Andreni was looking for some companionship."

"Not this time," Jayna replied. "The phone call was made just one hour before Steve was shot …" she looked at Steve. "And Andreni was seen leaving the hotel a few minutes after he got that call. The doorman remembers opening the door for him a few minutes after seven pm. He said Andreni rushed past him, like he was in a hurry."

"What proof do you have that Jordan was arranging all this?" Manicote asked. "All we have is that Andreni spoke to him."

"Irv Brasher has decided to tell us a little more," Jayna revealed. "We can't go into court with this, but Tavitian had Brasher bug Jordan's office. It was part of his way to keep tabs on everyone who worked for him. He agreed to play the tape, on the condition that we remain tight-lipped on its source. We can't even act on in this information without disguising what we know so Markatos won't be tipped off."

"What was on the tape?" asked Steve, the urgency in his voice escalating.

"Bernie Jordan hired Victor Andreni," Jayna revealed. "There was a recording of the telephone conversation. Andreni called Jordan and they spoke for five minutes – long enough for Jordan to spell out what he was supposed to do."

Manicote the sides of his mouth with both his hands. "And we can't go to court with it, since none of the parties on the tape consented to it being made."

"It tells us who the main players are," Culpepper asserted. "Now, we can zero in on Markatos and Andreni, rather than waste time on suspects that would lead us to dead ends."

"I want to hear this tape," Steve demanded.

"I knew you would," Jayna replied, "and so I told Brasher this and he's agreed to play you the tape. He's going to come here tonight …" Jayna looked at Manicote. "It was the only safe place I could think of. I didn't want Steve to be seen going into Brasher's office, and it would be risky for him to play it over the phone."

Manicote nodded. "That's all right. I understand."

"Forensics is still examining the gray Malibu," Jayna added, "but HPD ran a check on it, and the car is owned by Mick's garage. Charlene Odom's fingerprints were found inside, including the steering wheel. An employee at Mick's Garage said she was the last one to use it. She borrowed the car to run some errands the same day."

"It doesn't prove she used it to drive Andreni to the karate school parking lot," Culpepper countered.

"What have you got that we can bring to court, honey?" Steve asked.

"This goes with something a witness wrote in their statement," Jayna replied. She showed them a copy of it. "A woman running a food kiosk on Young Street saw a gray Malibu drive by sometime around eight-thirty the same night. She saw a woman driving – and a man in the passenger seat. She could tell because the woman had a shawl around her head and long fingernails. She couldn't get a good look at the man."

"With an obscured appearance, making a positive identification will be impossible," Culpepper interjected.

"It still leads us to another suspect nonetheless …" Jayna said, "… someone who is also linked to Tavitian and Markatos."

"Then where does that leave Joey Mazzone?" Manicote asked.

"He was a pair of loose lips that almost sunk the ship and had to be silenced," Culpepper added.

"That means everyone connected with this crime could be the next murder victim," Manicote warned. "Andreni, Odom, Jing, Villegas …"

"There's more," Jayna finished. "Calvin Hensley is an electronics and bomb man. Shooting isn't his M.O. He was known for rigging objects so they would electrocute whoever touched them. He's also a demolitions man. He was also the one who set up the bugging equipment for Brasher, and he was the one who made and planted a bomb in a prosecutor's car on the mainland, which killed the prosecutor and his assistant. Word on the coconut grapevine is that he also made the bomb that killed Tavitian."

"Maybe he's in town for Round Two," Culpepper said. The thought unnerved Steve, who shot an irritated glance at the assistant DA. Steve knew he was only theorizing and it was all to help, but when one is the target of someone's deadly wrath, knowing the next attempt on their life might come in the form of a bomb is more disconcerting than if it was from a gun.

"So far, he hasn't been seen anywhere near Tavitian's mansion," Jayna said. "His phone records from the Ewa don't indicate he's spoken to any of Tavitian's associates."

"What about Andreni?" Steve asked Jayna.

"He might have done his job already," she answered. "His fingerprints were in Mazzone's apartment. He wasn't there for a social call, and Harold Wong said he heard Mazzone talking in the bar a month ago, long before any of those hitmen came here. He heard that Mazzone had talked and he got a special cleaner to come in just to get rid of him."

"Just like Markatos to tie up loose ends," Steve said. "He wasted no time when he got out of prison. There are going to be more dead bodies before we even develop a tangible case against him."

Jayna didn't dare say it, but she was thinking it: _And the next ones might be ours_ …

"Kono is still tapping his sources and I have a Plan B," Jayna announced.

"What is that?" Manicote asked.

"I'm going to talk to Hugh Markatos and Julienne Tavitian," she answered. "They're both living in the same house, so it'll be easy to conduct both interviews."

Steve's blue eyes tightened. There was fierceness about them, an ice-blue anger that resulted from his hatred of the Tavitians and Markatos and not wanting Jayna to go anywhere near them. In those times, he forgot that she was a cop and this was her job.

"I don't want you going within a hundred feet of them!" Steve exclaimed.

"It's the only way we'll get any further," Jayna argued. "I'll have Danno and an HPD officer go with me. Julienne and Markatos are not going to try anything – even if I was alone."

"They'll have their guard up even stronger than before," Steve worried. "And they'll be even more determined to settle this vendetta."

"But they'll have a harder time because now, we're onto them. We weren't expecting it when they shot you," Jayna replied.

"It's a necessary evil, Steve," Manicote urged. "We have to know just where Mrs. Tavitian and Markatos stand, and how cooperative or uncooperative they are will tell us just that."

"If they can order as many murders as we think they did, what's one more to them?" Steve asked. "If they want vengeance on you, they won't stop till they get it. Letting them know you're onto them by openly questioning them is a death wish."

Jayna understood and appreciated Steve's apprehension but, she was not going to let anyone get away with shooting him and threatening her. She picked up his hand, firmly but gently pressing her fingers into it, as though it was a way to send her strength into him, and looked into his eyes.

"I'm going to be alright, Steve," she promised. "We're going to be alright."

 **IV**

Charlene Odom was the typical girl one would find in the company of mobsters like Charles Tavitian and Hugh Markatos, but was also atypical. Her thick, silky blonde hair fell about her shoulders and cascaded down to her shoulder blades. Her face was made of angular features and high cheekbones, with thin lips coated a seductive shade of blue-based pink. Her eyes were almond-shaped and the color of orange topaz, looking out from under cinnamon lashes. Her laughter was childlike and giddy, and she pranced around the swimming pool in carefree manner that matched. Her long legs, athletic and well-toned, took her five-foot-eleven-inch frame from one end of the pool to the other in record time, and Markatos couldn't help but stare as her curvaceous body bounced around in the stringy pink bikini. She dove into the pool with a great splash, whirling through the water like a dolphin, and grabbed onto an inflatable raft and lay on it stomach-down, splashing her arms and legs into the water to propel herself towards him.

"Why don't you join me, honey?" she called out to Markatos.

"Because I'm not in the mood to swim," Markatos told her. "Maybe some other time." He lounged on a plush red pool chair, covered in a white bathrobe, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.

Markatos picked up the Manhattan Iced Tea that sat abandoned on the table next to him and took a sip. Charlene's head and shoulders emerged from the water's surface, droplets of water falling off her like crystal beads as she shook her head and her wet blonde locks flung themselves around like gold ribbons. She swam to the edge near where Markatos was sitting.

"There's something bothering you," she said, putting her arm on the edge and resting her chin on it. Her amber eyes sparkled and Markatos found them almost hypnotizing.

"Only what had been bothering me the past five years," Markatos said.

Whatever that was, he was careful not to reveal it to her and Charlene was better off not knowing. She didn't want to wind up like Joey Mazzone.

Markatos' houseboy came out onto the patio and spoke to him.

"I'll be in right in," he said, and then he got up and followed the houseboy inside. He went to the phone and picked up the receiver. "Yes?" He listened as the party at the other end spoke.

"Right now?" Markatos asked. There was more silence as the caller replied.

"All right. I'll be there." He hung up. Markatos got up and looked at Charlene, who instinctively knew something was up.

"I'll mind the store for you, honey," she said. Markatos waved and went into the house.

 **V**

The hill overlooking the valley was accessed by a dirt road, which lead steadily the slope, past patches of grass and almond, eucalyptus, banyan, koa, and sausage trees. The sunlight and tropical breeze made for touristy weather, and the perfect opportunity for Hugh Markatos to get out, but he was still weary of being seen. He still felt that the police were shadowing him, and he was fed up with looking over his shoulder at every turn. He was already parked at the top of the hill, looking at the seemingly endless miles of green several feet below. Another car was already parked there, a dented old hatchback with a maroon exterior. It belonged to Victor Andreni, who was shooting at tin cans from ten feet away. Markatos waited till the din of gunfire paused while Andreni reloaded to call out.

"Someone might hear you!" Markatos yelled. Andreni turned around, sneering at him.

"You've got to spoil the fun all the time?" he asked. He went back to shooting when another car roared up the hill. It was a caramel Newport that parked just a few yards down from Tavitian's car. Andreni was hitting the cans with rapid pace, knocking them off their perch on an old wooden bench. The cans spun down the hill, their chinking sound getting fainter the further they rolled away.

The Newport's driver's side door opened, and out stepped Leland Marshall, smiling, strong white teeth gleaming like the mouth of a hungry shark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 **I**

The other man was still sitting inside the senator's car. Markatos walked over and looked in through the backseat window. The other man's face was covered with a large bandage covering everything from his forehead to his top lip. A pair of black sunglasses covered his eyes, but when he removed them, Markatos recognized them instantly. He motioned for Markatos to open the door. Markatos did, and looked square into the dark eyes of Charles Tavitian.

"Hop in, Hugh. We have a lot to catch up on." Tavitian patted the empty seat next to him. He slowly peeled away the giant bandage. He was taking a great risk exposing himself this way, but Markatos figured that his old boss must have been

Charles Tavitian's natural tan didn't show any signs of discoloration, though the black hair was starting to gray at the temples. His face was cleaner, tighter, with the battle scars removed. There was obvious work done to clean up the face, but Markatos still recognized his old boss.

"Just what made you decide to come out here, and take off the disguise?" Markatos asked. "Isn't the fuzz watching?"

"They think I'm dead like the dodo," Tavitian quipped as he lit a cigarette. "Good disguises, a loyal wife, and employees who know not to talk take care of the rest. Let's just say that it's time for me to be resurrected." He lit a cigarette and offered one to Markatos, who shook his head in refusal.

"Just what is this about being resurrected?" he asked. "The police will be all over you if you ever come out of hiding."

"I'm going to make my escape from Hawaii very soon," Tavitian explained, "so there won't be any worry of the police coming after me. There are several spots in Europe and South America I can escape to but, for now, we have pending business here.

"And part of that business is Jayna Berringer and Steve McGarrett," Senator Marshall added.

Markatos clenched his fist as he spoke. "I want her! But I want to go after that girl directly … not by shooting McGarrett!"

"All in due time," Senator Marshall assured him.

" If not for Jayna Berringer … you wouldn't be playing dead and I wouldn't have spent the past five years in jail," Markatos continued to gripe.

"She made quite a case against you," Marshall said. "Good thing I got the assistant DA at the time to lose some of the evidence before it went to court..."

"It was still five years," Markatos complained, throwing his hands forward for emphasis, "Five years too long."

"We can't get you those five years back, but we can get even," Tavitian promised him.

"Then how does shooting McGarrett fit into your plans?" Marshall asked him and Tavitian. "He survived the shooting. That hired gun couldn't hit the broadside of a barn."

"He's important to Jayna," Tavitian said. "By getting to him, it'll send a warning to her. She won't be able to prove we ordered the hit, but she'll be sweating bullets trying to find out, and that'll throw her off guard. Then …" Tavitian tightened his fist, "we crush her…

"In the meantime, she'll be spending her last days looking over her shoulder, wondering if that moment could be her last. Every single thought she has will be of how and when she will die, which will torture her even further. Add to that the fear of losing her main man McGarrett … the girl will be a total wreck!" Tavitian smiled sardonically.

"But you set her on the warpath," Markatos replied. "She'll turn this rock upside down just to find who shot Steve. Five-O is good, Charlie, too good. Even the new assistant DA can't be bought."

"He's sharp," Senator Marshall added. "I felt like he could see right through me."

"That's why we have to act now," Tavitian urged.

"Hugh is right, Charlie. McGarrett is out of the hospital and at his apartment," Marshall replied. "If something happens to him now, Jayna Berringer will pull off all the stops to find his killer. She'll go after us even more fiercely, and don't think it'll be the last time I hear from the DA." He waved his hand at Markatos.

Tavitian was unperturbed, while Markatos was uptight. The muscles in his face and neck stiffened, and his eyes seared. He pointed a finger at Marshall.

"Just remember, Senator, you're up to your neck in this as much as I am," Markatos reminded him. "You bribed that assistant DA …"

"And he got promoted and is a DA now," Marshall replied, "and he knows to keep his mouth shut … You would be wise to do the same …" The senator straightened the pink flower in his lapel.

"I'll do what I have to do to keep them off my back," Markatos sneered.

"Victor …" Marshall called. Andreni stopped his target practice and turned around. Marshall motioned for him to come over. As Andreni got closer, Tavitian continued. "You know what to do tonight?"

Andreni nodded. "It's all set."

"When it's done, catch the next plane off this rock," Marshall instructed.

"Will do." Andreni went back to his target practice.

"They have Janice Tremont in some witness protection program somewhere," Marshall said. "What are we going to do about her?"

"Whatever she knew, she shared with the fuzz already," Tavitian said. "There's no point in taking her down. It'll only draw more attention to us."

"Mazzone was singing to them, too, but we took care of him," Markatos countered.

"Joey knew too much about McGarrett's shooting, and we got him before he could tell _everything_ to the committee …" Tavitian spoke confidently.

"Janice is still on thin ice," Marshall said. "You can't let her talk."

"I won't," Tavitian said. "She's going to be joining Joey soon, and taking McGarrett and Berringer along with her. You just have to wait and see."

 **II**

Jayna read over the report on the forensic evidence from the car. There were no prints on the shell casing. There was plenty of time for them to clean the car. All it took was a vacuum cleaner to pick up all the debris. Even the forensics team uses one to pick up whatever they can't see. She referred to the file on Victor Andreni, information which Danno put on the blackboard.

"Victor Louis Andreni, age forty-three, a native of Cincinnati," Danno began, "… goes by the aliases Lew Brennan, Andrew Brennan, Andrew Lewis, Louis Miller, Victor Cressman, and Bernie Schultz. He checked into the Hilton under the name Bernie Schultz. There's one factor which throws a monkey wrench into this, Jayna – it says here that Andreni's past weapons of choice were Dragunovs and AR-15s. No Colt Commander."

"Dragunovs and AE-15s are used for shooting from long ranges – yet the bullets they took out of Steve came from a Colt that matched the Colt HPD found. A hitman wouldn't need a long-range rifle when he planned on driving up to his target and shooting from only a few feet away," Jayna explained. "The Colt was the right kind of weapon to use. And even if his fingerprints are found in the car, it means Andreni could have sat in it at any time, not necessarily when Steve was shot, and wouldn't prove he shot him. Without linking Andreni to the gun, we have nothing on him."

"Hitmen most often buy the gun when they arrive at their destination, to avoid airline inspections and metal detectors," Chin pointed out. "Andreni could have gotten that Colt when he arrived here."

"He's too careful. Like I said, a pro," Jayna maintained. "He'd know where and how to get a weapon that wouldn't leave a trail. That he threw the gun where he did meant he knew we couldn't trace it back to him." She turned to Kono. "What did your informants turn up?"

"They say that Markatos is not done with our boss," Kono replied. "He's madder than Pele. He wants vengeance. He's calling out for another cleaner. They're not sure of his name, but they think he's coming from Detroit."

"How sure are your contacts?" Jayna asked.

"They haven't steered me wrong yet," Kono replied, emphatically. "I'm also checking on the gun. There are some fences on this rock who sell Colts. I'll have names and addresses this afternoon."

"Great work, Kono," Jayna commended. "You and Chin go to the phone company and check Markatos and Julienne Tavitian's phone records. See if they made any calls to Detroit or received any. The same for Sherman Jing, Susan Corvis, and Charlene Odom."

Chin and Kono got up and hurried out. "Danno, we're going to have a friendly chat with Julienne Tavitian—but first, we're going to check on what Forensics found in the car."

"I take the term 'friendly' is used loosely?" Danno asked, though he knew the answer.

"You got it." Jayna's cold veneer shone through once more.

 **III**

The forensics team was still checking the gray Malibu once more when Jayna and Danno came to the lab. Che greeted them with his usual enthusiasm which he reserved for when he found several items which might help crack a case.

"There were plenty of fingerprints," Che said, for openers. "A woman's prints were found on the steering wheel. We ran them through the database and they matched up with a nightclub employee registration for Susan Corvis."

Jayna could see the first cherry appear in the slot machine.

"There is another set of prints on the passenger door handle – just a right thumbprint. It belongs to Victor Andreni." There went the second cherry.

"There was a third shell casing found inside the car as well," Che went on. "It matches the first two we found in parking lot." _Ding!_ went the third cherry.

"Some of the witnesses said they heard three shots," Jayna added.

"That means we can place the gun in the car, as well as place Andreni in it, but we still have to link him to the gun," Danno pointed out.

"We'll get there," Jayna replied. She turned to Che. "Was there anything else?"

"The paint chip found at the crime scene matches the paint on the Malibu," Che said. "You've got your getaway car and can place two suspects in it."

"Is that enough for an arrest warrant?" Danno walked around the car, looking in the windows.

"I think so," Jayna replied. "We can check with John first. Steve will be happy to hear this!" That feeling of elation was a rarity for Jayna, but when they struck, she could feel the ecstasy running through her veins like they were a lifeline as vital as blood.

 **IV**

The HPD officer opened the door to Steve's apartment and asked if he wanted him to go inside with him. Steve told him he'd be fine. The officer nodded and closed the door shut as he stepped back into the hall. Steve still felt like he was being sealed in an airtight jar. He walked over to the answering machine and pressed the play button. The first message was from the building manager, a blanket message to all the residents that garbage must be deposited in the bins at the end of each hallway. The next message was from Manicote, informing him that Culpepper met with Sen. Marshall and that he would call him back later to discuss that meeting, and a message from Jayna, indicating that they made a breakthrough with the evidence from the gray Malibu. The last message didn't start until after a few seconds of silence, then came the same, deep, soar-throat sounding gurgle he had heard before. Steve's adrenaline level rose and his heart started to pound.

"McGarrett … you're going to die! … Five years are up!" Then, an abrupt click. Steve's legs started to wobble and the room looked like it was turning into a fuzzy, distorted painting. He slunk to the ground, clutching the side of the table, breathing like he was running out of air.

 **V**

The unmarked car came to a smooth stop in front of Tavitian's house. Jayna got out, ready to pound the front door down if need be. She followed Steve's advice and brought Danno and an HPD man – Officer Simmons – with her, but she doubted they would be able to control her. There was no doubt that Mrs. Tavitian and her staff had to know something about Steve's shooting, but just how far were they willing to go to cover it up was uncertain. They had the means to kill again, and wouldn't care if they had to get past a hundred police guards to kill Steve.

Jayna's progression into the house was stopped by Danno, who called out to her before she rang the doorbell.

"Let me do the talking," he urged. "She might open up more."

"Go ahead," Jayna said, "but I still have the right to cut in."

Danno pressed the doorbell, and an Asian man in his mid-to-late twenties, in a white jacket, black bow tie, and black pants answered. His hair was the color as his bow tie and pants, and was covered in pomade. He viewed the officers with surprise and confusion at first but, once he saw Danno and Jayna's badges, he let them and Officer Simmons into the house. He showed them into a living room painted ice blue with matching furniture, with some white and brass items mixed in.

"Please have a seat and I will let Mrs. Tavitian know you are here," he said. He disappeared down the hallway and Jayna took the time to examine her surroundings. The only pop of vivid color in the room came from some yellow, orange, and red flowers stemming from a white vase on the coffee table. The walls were covered with paintings of landscapes and a large, gilt-rimmed mirror stood over a lone cherry table.

Julienne Tavitian came down the stairs, a wispy form in lavender chiffon. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back, with waves of the golden hair hanging down the nape of her neck, secured in place by a wooden barrette. Around her neck was a gold chain, from which dangled a pendant in the shape of a rose. Her slender arms grasped the railing as though it was going to fall out from under her, and her footsteps were soft, yet echoing. She walked into the living room as though she expected everyone to stand up and take notice. Jayna was not taken in by her, and Danno and Officer Simmons didn't acknowledge her with any more civility than they would any other suspect in a criminal investigation. In accordance with etiquette, they stood up when Julienne entered. Jayna only managed a half-hearted glance in her direction.

After the salutations were over, Julienne Tavitian seated herself in one of the ice blue armchairs in front of the oversized white couch on which three police officers sat. Folding one slender leg over another, Julienne focused her gaze at Jayna.

"Just what brings you here?" she spoke bluntly.

"Someone tried to kill Steve McGarrett, and we think the shooting may have a connection your late husband and one of his associates – Hugh Markatos," Jayna spoke equally directly.

Julienne did not bat an eyelid. The mention of Markatos did nothing to stir up anything inside her, nor the mention of her husband. Jayna already knew it, but she was certain now that Julienne knew more than what she led on. She had time to rehearse.

"I see," she replied calmly. "Just what makes you think so?"

"The shooter who shot McGarrett was heard to say, 'Five years are up,' and out of all the men McGarrett put away, Markatos was the only one recently released from jail and the fingerprints found in the suspected getaway car belong to one of your late husband's employees – Susan Corvis."

Julienne did a good job of hiding her true emotions. She stared at Jayna and Danno like she didn't know them at all, then looked at Jayna again. "I don't know anything about that. I'll admit that Mr. Markatos is living here … I'm sure you found that out otherwise, you wouldn't be here, but he has had nothing to do with any hit men or any shooting."

"Is he here?" Danno asked. "If not, we can come back when he is." Julienne knew when to hold out, but also knew when to open up.

"I'll have him come down," she replied, icily. She called out to houseboy, who entered as though he was waiting for her call. She told him to get Mr. Markatos and Ms. Odom. The boy nodded, and returned with the two in tow. Markatos acted like he was called away before he could land a big poker score, and Susan was poker-faced.

"Just what do you do want?" Markatos asked.

"We want to know where you were last Thursday night!" Jayna snapped. "You know full-well what happened, so I'm not going to waste time with prefacing. Steve McGarrett's been shot and the shooter said, 'Five years are up!' You just got out of jail after serving a five-year sentence …" Jayna looked at Susan, "and her fingerprints are all over the getaway car, which was found at a repair shop owned by your late employer and now his wife. We have witnesses who described the car and gave a partial license plate number, and we them to traced the car in the garage based on that. One witness described a woman driving the car who looks just like Miss Odom. Would you all mind explaining that?"

Julienne looked like she was about to choke. She swallowed hard, letting out a small gasp. Markatos looked like he was about to lash out at any moment, while Susan Odom maintained her poker face.

"I don't know anything about this!" Julienne exclaimed. "I run my late husband's business affairs in a legitimate manner. Mr. Markatos has come back to work for me and helps me run the Blue Flamingo."

"Are you sure that's all he's doing?" Jayna asked, contemptuously. Danno put his hand on her shoulder to remind her to curb her anger.

"Mrs. Tavitian," Danno began, "we have a warrant to search your house and outside grounds, and while we have no grounds to arrest Mr. Markatos, we have enough to arrest Miss Corvis …"

Susan's poker face started to crumble. She didn't say word, just stood next to Markatos and held his arm, tightly. Officer Simmons went outside and came back inside with two more uniformed officers and a detective and they set about the searching the house. A policewoman came in and read Susan her rights. She took her by the arm, and Susan pulled her arm back defiantly.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. "I know what to do!" She turned to Jayna. Her face looked almost demonic. Her green eyes glowed with evil and her lips turned upward to reveal sharp teeth. "You're dead, Berringer, dead!"

"Then we have a lot in common," Jayna shot back. "Get her out of here!" She stuck her nose up the air and walked insolently towards the door. Markatos called out to her, telling her they would get her out. He glared at Jayna with daggers in his eyes.

"You'd better hope your case doesn't stick …" he threatened.

"I'm sure your parole officer would love to hear that," Danno said, dryly.

Julienne clutched the gold rose around her neck, as though touching it would make all her troubles disappear. Jayna and Danno headed upstairs, and found it unoccupied. Julienne's bedroom was decorated in ecru and gold, with only feminine accents everywhere. The bathroom, however, said something else. A man's burgundy bathrobe hung from a brass hook, and there was a bottle of cologne and one of aftershave lotion on the bathroom counter.

The cologne bottle was jade green and shaped like a miniature wine bottle. The label read, _Féroce_ _Por Homme_. _Féroce_ is a luxury line which isn't even sold in Hawaii. The aftershave lotion was in the same color bottle, though square-shaped. The bottles themselves didn't seem like much at first, but their presence in Julienne Tavitian's bathroom, along with the man's bathrobe made Jayna curious. Taking a handkerchief out her pocket, she gently picked up both the cologne and aftershave bottles and put them into a separate plastic evidence bags.

Danno shook his head in doubt. "What do you think that'll prove?" he asked.

"I'll know once we examine it," Jayna answered.

 **VI**

Up in the attic of the house, Charles Tavitian sat and listened. He wasn't nervous about anyone barging in on him. The room was behind a secret panel that he had installed long ago, to create an alcove for storing valuables and a hiding place. From the outside, anyone looking at that paneling would see a totally solid wall. The room was not without its comforts and resources, though. It was furnished with a refrigerator and lighting. He sat in a plush armchair, waiting for the police to leave. An alarm attached to the wall and connected to a switch in the kitchen and other various rooms throughout the house lit up when the houseboy flicked the kitchen switch, alerting Tavitian that there were visitors and he should take cover. There were closed-circuit TV screens, all connected to various cameras around the property.

The rumbling from the wall signaled that someone was pushing the paneling open. Tavitian picked up the revolver on the table. His tension turned to relief when he saw it was only Julienne. She looked flustered, rushing into the room and towards him like she was running for her life.

"Charlie!" she cried. "The police were here … the people from Five-O … they had a search warrant …They arrested Susan. I tried to get rid of them, but found the car and fingerprints!"

Tavitian didn't hide his disdain for the law and put his arms around his wife in a gentle embrace. She rested her tired blonde head on his shoulder, rubbing her face into his shoulder and sobbing.

"I did all I could … they're going to keep coming back … I thought they'd leave us alone … I knew this wasn't going to work. We can't go on like this …" She sniffled.

"We can," Tavitian assured her. He stared into the bleakness of the hidden room, envisioning his plan for revenge. "We can. We just have to throw Five-O off the track." He gently stepped away, holding his wife by her shoulders and looking at her tear-filled face. He lifted her chin and looked into her eyes.

"McGarrett can't go into a courtroom and tell them I'm alive without real proof," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "If he did, they'd laugh him out of there … it'd never wash …" he loosened his grip on her shoulders. Julienne was able to lower her heels to the ground, still nervous and anxious, clutching the rose pendant again.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

"Call Gerald and tell him to post bail for Susan, then call Sherman and have him come over here after they get back. Victor has his orders and is going to carry them out tonight. I'm going to make sure McGarrett and Five-O back off, once and for all." Tavitian clenched his fist and ground it into his palm.


End file.
